Methodenstreit: The Last Czamaral
by demonsshade
Summary: Two almost-lovers, Matthew and Sveta, part just as Weyard needs them together most. A dark take on Golden Sun with MatthewxSveta at its core, but romance is only a part of the plot.
1. Change

**Author's Note: **Hey, hey, hey. This is the first chapter in my reboot of Fallen. I decided to scrap all the ideas that rose from my previous stories, Risen and Fallen, and start anew. That's right! Nobody is dead anymore, the plot is different, and different things happen! Risen will remain uploaded because it is, honestly, one of my favorite things I've written. I'll be taking Fallen down shortly and will be recycling some of its content (which isn't much, honestly) for use in my new series.

Speaking of recycling, two of the four POV for this chapter are taken directly from Fallen, and were simply edited for consistency. That would be Hydros's POV and Unan's POV. Matthew's and Rief's are both entirely new. Together, these four POV sections are intended to give a bit of background about the change that is coming to Weyard after Dark Dawn. (By the way, there's a one month time skip between Matthew's POV and Rief's.)

Because this is a reboot, there's no need to read Risen or anything else to understand what's going on. You can start right here! Read Risen if you want, but it's no longer related to my new Golden Sun stuff (though I may reuse characters). Anyway, I've written too much for this A/N. Enjoy my new fanfic! And please review!

* * *

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity."

- William Butler Yeats, The Second Coming

**Prologue: Change**

Matthew gazed out over Morgal as the last of the shadows of the Grave Eclipse melted away, somehow visible against the moonlight. They hadn't yet cleared the mountains on their trek back into Sana from the Apollo Sanctum, and though their quest was won, their hearts were heavy with grief. They distracted themselves with humor and banter, but they all ached in some way.

Matthew wanted to reach out to Sveta, to comfort her for her lost brother, but what could he say? "Sorry" was pitifully useless, as effective as mending a ghastly wound with a single, small bandage.

She was mostly silent on their daily hikes, and curled up in a ball, alone and separate from the group, when they stopped to sleep. By the time the group finally reached the mountains again, Sveta hadn't spoken in days.

Sitting around the campfire at night, the rest of the party was chatting amiably. Sveta simply stared into her soup, playing with the spoon and eating nothing. Matthew found himself distracted by her. She was beautiful, that was sure, and in a sense her beauty was only enhanced by her insistent depression. The firelight seemed to dance across her face, illuminating each feature, eliminating imperfections. Her downward gaze further dramatized the image, as if from some long-forgotten statue of an age unremembered.

"We're almost out of the mountains now," Kraden said. Matthew realized he had been spacing out, keeping little track of the conversation. Who the old man was speaking to, why, and in response to what, he had no idea. "I agree. It's time to think about what the next direction for us, individually and as a whole, is."

"Well," Matthew looked across from Kraden, where Karis was sitting on a log next to Amiti, her face serious. "Matthew, Tyrell and I were planning on returning to the Goma Plateau. Isaac and Garet are, no doubt, worried sick about us returning safely."

At this, Sveta raised her head, ever so slightly, looking straight at Matthew. He caught her eye, and it seemed almost like a trace of hurt washed over her for a second, but then it was gone again, her face turned back toward her soup. Briefly, Matthew wondered if nobody had told Sveta about his plans to return with Karis and Tyrell. He swore to himself. He should have told her himself.

"I... must return to Ayuthay." Amiti said slowly. Oddly enough, he glanced at Karis when he said it, as if there was some unspoken understanding between them. "King Paithos may already have succumbed to his illness, and I must see to it that my city is properly led."

"Same here." Eoleo stated, shifting his weight. He'd already finished his soup and was running the blade of his greataxe along a whetstone, drinking a strong alcohol from a pouch every once in a while. "Champa needs me. I can take a detour to Yamata and Belinsk to take Himi and Sveta home once we're back at my ship, but after that it's home for me."

"So it seems home-bound is the trend?" Kraden smirked at Eoleo, who was seated near to me. "I guess I'm more spry than you lot. I'm not done with my adventuring." Rief immediately seemed to snap to attention.

"Sir! What about me?" Rief piped up. Kraden laughed, an unexpectedly deep and resonant sound, despite the man's age. A century, if Matthew remembered correctly, yet he was somehow still active.

"You're welcome to accompany me, Rief. You can choose the direction of our adventures now!" Rief beamed at Kraden's statement, a light appearing behind his eyes. "I tire of making our decisions after so long."

"Oh boy, Kraden, he's gonna wet himself with joy now." Eoleo joked. He was a bit drunk, which gave reason to the outburst from a normally solemn man. A few of the others laugh. Matthew doesn't, instead too focused on Sveta. She glanced up again, catching his eye, then looked away quickly.

"Sveta," Matthew interrupted the laughing, hardly cognizant of it occurring in the first place. "Can I talk to you in private?" She hesitated for a long while, then nodded, standing.

"Hey, hey, Matthew!" Eoleo grinned, "Go easy on the girl! We're all going to notice if you start making kissy faces at each other!" He laughed again. Matthew glared at him for a moment before leading Sveta away from the campfire.

"Oh, come now, Eoleo," He heard Kraden say. "Be nice to the kids."

"Sveta, we need to talk." Matthew says once they're out of earshot. Sveta didn't respond, merely looking up at him, the moonlight draping her. The mountain they were on was unusually scenic, though perhaps that wasn't a good thing. Earlier in the day they had seen a few glimpses of Morgal. Villages still burned, their dark tendrils of smoke refusing to be blown away in the wind even days after the end of the Grave Eclipse. Sveta stared at them for as long as they were visible.

For a long while they simply stood there; Matthew started to feel foolish. If she wasn't even going to respond to him, then what point was there in talking? Resignation suddenly took hold of him, rather than the expected response of anger or irritation. How could he blame her for anything after Volechek's death?

"You don't have to explain yourself." Sveta said suddenly, the first real sentence she'd uttered in days. Matthew stared down at her in shock, disbelief. Did he really hear her speak? "I can't really expect you to tell me your plans for the future when I can hardly talk myself."

"I'm honestly surprised, Sveta." Matthew grinned at her. "Two full sentences! You can really speak after all." On any other person, the slight chastisement would have been damaging to use, but Matthew trusted in his friendship with Sveta.

"Shut up." Sveta said, a small grin showing. The first smile in a long time, since before Volechek's death. Spinning away from him, Sveta walked to the edge of the trail, staring out over the Sanan landscape, a picture visible only slightly in the moonlight. "You've shown me many beautiful, wonderful, terrible things on this journey, Matthew. Even if we do not end it together, I am content."

"I can always see you." Matthew blurted out, but he predicted Sveta's response before she spoke from the way she slumped her shoulders, sighing. "I mean, I could visit Belinsk, maybe buy a house and live there? We could see each other if we wanted to!"

"You're too idealistic." Sveta whispered, just barely loud enough to hear. Louder, she continued, "I am a Czamaral. I am the blood of kings. There are... expectations."

"Who gives a crap about expectations?" Matthew felt emotion run into his voice. "Yeah, I'm an idealist; it's the only way to keep sane after all the death and destruction we've seen. So I could care less about any royal expectations. Even if I've got to head home first, I'm still coming after you, no matter what."

"You aren't special, Matthew!" Sveta turned, angered. "There are laws, rules. I am going to be a _queen_. With my brother gone, all the hopes and desires of my people fall to me. I am their sole protector now. I am the _last _Czamaral."

"Have Matthew help you make some more!" They hear from the campfire. Sveta and Matthew turned towards it to see Karis cupping her hand over Eoleo's mouth, an embarrassed expression on her face. Sveta quickly looked away from them, blushing both from having accidentally raised her voice and the statement itself.

"Don't listen to him." Matthew smiled reassuringly. "I'm the son of Isaac, a warrior of Vale. How is that not good enough pedigree?"

"It's not about pedigree, it's-"

"Sveta, you know how I feel about you, and I, you." Matthew was certain the camp could overhear him by now; he didn't care. "But I just want to make sure of one thing with you, before we make any sort of decision. Everything I saw in your head back then, was it true?"

Matthew thought back to the Apollo Sanctum, to the time their souls merged. He had felt Sveta's consciousness pressed against him, her very essence seeping into him, him into her. It was more intimate than any lover's tryst, kiss or carress. He felt the entirety of her being, saw through her eyes, sensed her, _knew _her in every way imaginable. For a moment there was no distinction between Matthew and Sveta.

They simply were.

"Yes." Sveta looked up at him, again that same vulnerable, shy girl he met in Teppe Ruins, "Everything. You saw the essence of what makes me exist: Every facet and detail. You even saw-" She paused, just for a second, "How I look naked."

"Same for you."

"But even that's inconsequential. The nakedness of my body is nothing compared to that of my soul." Sveta's gaze remained locked onto Matthew's. "Don't question what you saw, Matthew. There is no truer expression of who I am in all of Weyard than what's bored into your mind."

"Sveta-" Matthew started to say, but Sveta cut him off, her finger at his lips.

"A queen cannot forsake her people, even for the one she-" Sveta stopped herself, looking away. "Matthew, don't chase after me. The pain isn't worth it to either of us. To even talk of this while in mourning for my brother, I can't-" Hesitation. "I can't stay with you. Not after all this."

"Why not?" Matthew asked, but he felt he knew the answer, even if neither could ever express it to the other.

"Because..." Sveta grit her teeth, her eyes watering. Her misery at that moment was tangible. "Because I said so, okay?" Sveta practically yelled this, a few small streaks of sadness running down her cheeks, but an instant later she was quiet again, as if embarrassed by her outburst. "This isn't a choice I can make for myself. I would have loved for you to come with me, to live with me in Belinsk, but we both know that won't work. The people will never accept it. They don't even want me, let alone a stranger. They want my brother!"  
"But I-"

"You can't fight it. This is how it must be." Sveta verbally bit at him, harsh and hostile. Matthew found himself without words as Sveta pushed past him, back to the campfire. After a long while he sighed, sitting at the edge of the cliff.

He stayed there, his legs dangling off the cliff, and thought for a long time, a curious remorse settling over him, a regret for times never to be, for visions he'd never see through. He understood what she had said – at this point, there was no way he couldn't understand her – but the pain in his heart proceeded relentlessly.

It was hopeless after all.

o

King Hydros clutched the desk tightly, support for his old bones. Even a Lemurian grows old in the end, and Hydros knew his had been a long time coming. Every morning he'd awaken, surprised to see the light of Sol, surprised that his heart had not simply stopped in his sleep. Every night he slept wondering if he'd see the next light of dawn, if that was to be his last day.

Every time he walked, he wondered why his legs didn't simply crumple beneath him. They probably would if he didn't use a cane. When he ate, he wondered how his organs could still function after so long. Truly, it was a miracle that he had lived since the last Golden Age. Who would have thought he'd live to see another?

The ancient Lemurian examined the room he had claimed as his own so long ago. As King, his quarters were naturally lush, but Hydros was not one for extravagance. Silk curtains from hundreds of years past hung from the open window, so fragile to age that a single touch would destroy them. Yet even they were but a small fraction of Hydros's own age. Hydros unlatched the lock holding the window closed and let it fly open.

He gazed out that window now, out over the sinking city of Lemuria. The scholars had all thought the Golden Sun would restore their city to its former glory, but Hydros knew better. Lemuria was a relic of the past. You cannot stop the cruel and swift passage of time, even with alchemy. The city itself was dying, much like Hydros himself.

"I watched as you were born, Lemuria," Hydros smiled calmly out over the moonlit city. So calm and quiet, the people long having left to the armada when the architects declared the city was falling into the sea too swiftly to be safe. "And like so much else, I will have to see you die."

Behind him, Hydros heard a rustle of movement and the old king smiled. He hobbled to his desk, stacks of papers filling it to the brim. How fortunate he had gotten all his work for the day done before this moment. There should be very little trouble for those who follow him to lead.

"Raspin," Hydros called as he lowered himself into that old, familiar chair behind his desk. The musky smell was still pleasant after all these years. The young, bright-eyed soldier rushed into the room, saluting. "Please, bring me some wine. The vintage from Jorbe's stock, if you would please."

"But sir," Raspin cocked an eyebrow quizzically. "Weren't all fine wines taken with the Armada?"

"They decided to take the wines as well?" Hydros chuckled. "Typical of sailors. I should have expected such a thing. Tell me, Raspin, why are you still in Lemuria?"

"Sir," Raspin snapped to attention. "I exist to serve and protect the crown no matter where you choos to stay. I shall accompany you until you have packed all your belongings and are ready to join the Armada."

"At least some still hold respect for their elders." Hydros smiled at the young man. Still fresh to combat, he was only seventy years old. Such youth. "Tell me, are there any particular ladies you have your eye on currently?"

"B-Beg your pardon?" Hydros nearly burst out laughing at the blushing the man immediately displayed. Oh! The innocence of youth! How beautiful and fragile the concept was! "I-If you would allow me to say so," Hydros nodded, "I-I've had eyes for Lady Myra f-for some time now."

The young Raspin was chuckling nervously and scratching the back of his head. Hydros could tell the depth of the boy's feelings by the look in his eyes. Memories of youth rushed back to Hydros then, and he smiled again.

"She's a few years your younger, but the daughter of a senator!" Hydros laughed, throwing his head back. "Keep to your passions, boy. You are only young once."

"Of course sir." Raspin smiled, saluting again. "And your wine?"

"There should still be one bottle of something left. Humor an old man his alcohol, if you would," Hydros smiled kindly. The young soldier had no choice but to obey. He rushed off. Oh, how Hydros wished he could still move so swiftly! And long after the soldier had gone, Hydros smiled and spoke to himself. "I've got quite the feeling tonight is not ordinary."

There was a long silence, so long that Hydros worried that he had perhaps felt what had not been there, that his senses, despite being fine tuned after so long, were wrong. But finally, almost with relief, the presence responded.

"How did you know I was here?" The hooded man stepped out of the darkness. He was dressed from head to toe in black, as expected, his face barely visible. "I made sure there were no clues. I am not unskilled at infiltration."

"And indeed, you fooled a young guard." Hydros smiled at the intruder, leaning back as comfortably as he could in his chair. "It's been thirty years since we last met, but you are still as callow as ever. You serve a master that you do not understand."

"You spared Raspin by sending for the alcohol." The man stated. "You knew there was none left, and he dare not return without it. How generous of you, and to maintain such a cool demeanor throughout."

"Unlike a few I know," Hydros leaned over a candle, extinguishing it with a flick of the wrist. "I try to keep to sanity in my line of work. But I'm the King and you're a soldier. Surely there is a difference in wisdom required to hold each position."

"On the contrary, I've moved up in the world." A flash of a smirk under that hood. Moonlight reflected off that devilish smile; the treachery behind it was almost palpable. "I'm not just a grunt anymore. I'm called Denier, general of the coins, now. The High Empyror _needs_me."

"I am not surprised. You were always talented, so very talented, but always young in the mind." Hydros shook his head sadly. "Your genius has hampered you. Your good judgment seems to be taking an unwelcome vacation. Many will die because of you."

"I take no pleasure from the deaths I will inflict," Denier stated grimly, drawing a long, thin blade. It was as dark as pitch and seemed to suck in the moonlight around it. "Your life is not the first I am bound to steal, but it is all necessary."

Hydros stood slowly, pushing the chair back. He knew this was coming the moment he first opened the window. As his father did before him, and his father's father did before that, Hydros stood and stared at his death. There was no other acceptable way.

"If you follow through with this, you realize you are condemning this entire world, yes?" Hydros let go of his cane, letting himself stand under his own power. "History has a peculiar way of repeating itself, so I know what is to come next."

Denier crossed to Hydros, the dark blade pointed at the old man's heart. As the point touched Hydros's tunic, he could feel his weakness encumber him, but he stood strong.

"Just don't resist, Hydros." Denier said, almost kindly. "I will not make your passing unpleasant. It's just like falling asleep."

"I die fighting." Hydros backed away, throwing up his hands. Massive icicles erupted from Hydros's palms, shooting towards Denier. The hooded man rolled to the side, getting to his feet just as Hydros attacked again, this time with a barrier of boiling water thrown at him.

Hydros sighed sadly as the boiling water enveloped Denier and he started to writhe in apparent agony. The old king took no pleasure from the sight of the burning man, but he knew it was necessary. Hydros turned away, out that window he knew so well.

Clouds in front of the full moon, shining slightly in the darkness.

Sharp pain, and Hydros looked down at the black blade, at the blood pouring from the wound in his chest. Behind him he could feel Denier pressed against him. As he spoke, his voice cracked in sadness.

"Good king, you are not the first," He barely breathed in Hydros' ear as the man slowly stumbled to the ground. Hydros felt his senses dull as blood poured from the wound. He stared out the window, at nature, at once serene and violent.

"Find peace with your gods, Hydros." Denier said, drawing his blade. Hydros fell to the ground, his head tilted upwards. Still he could see the moon, covered in clouds.

"There was no other way." Hydros whispered at the night sky.

"I am sorry, your grace." Denier said as the world faded out.

And at long last, after centuries of strife and conflict, peace and love, a lifetime nigh immortal, King Hydros looked one last time at the familiar sky. As the moon moved from the clouds it hid behind, the moonlight touched his skin again, and Hydros was content. In the end, all that began must also end.

o

Kraden was always whistling now, Rief thought absentmindedly. It was a happy tune, carefree with a hint of sadness to punctuate its melodic verses. Somehow the lack of words made it all the more sweet. No matter what happened, no matter what course their road took them, the man was jovial, full of a jubilant life a man over a hundred should never have been allowed to possess.

"Where to now, my boy?" Kraden stopped, looking back at Rief. They were somewhere north of Bilibin now, Rief thought, though he couldn't really be sure. Much of the country seemed unfamiliar, and the sparse, yet very green and very common, forest they walked through did little to reveal their location.

"Wherever the road takes us, I guess." Rief smiled back. North. They were always going north, he felt, even when they went South, or East, or West. Always the road turned back North. There was something profound about that, Rief thought. Ever since leaving the rest of the adepts some weeks past, or perhaps a month, their journey had been one of joy and adventure. A happy journey, for once.

"Oh, if only your sister could see us now!" Kraden laughed, picking up his tune again, speaking between verses. "Too bad she ran off with Piers, now isn't it?"

Rief thought back to the time he'd first met Piers, a fairly aloof, yet skilled, sailor who was one of the Warriors of Vale. Undeniably, the man was handsome, and his mysterious nature was likely a treat for any young lady But he was Lemurian, so his age was rather undefined.

"Isn't he older than you, Kraden?" Rief dared to ask. Kraden didn't take well to implications that he was old – in his mind he was just as active as any teenager but, of course, much, much wiser.

"Old is a subjective term, Rief." Kraden glared jokingly at Rief, who stifled a grin. "But, to be honest, nobody really knows his age but Piers himself. When I first met him, he seemed to look around the same age as Felix, though he was much quieter and, dare I say, wiser."

"Either way, he's at least 50, right?" Rief ventured, and Kraden nods. "Well, my sister is only 16! Isn't that a bit weird, then?"

"As I said, young one." There Kraden went, using his age as a convenient soap box. Rief rolled his eyes. "It was Nowell who pursued Piers, not the other way around. I'm unsure of Piers' feelings for the girl, though he did let her stay with him."

"Well, he'd better keep my sister safe." Rief mocked protectiveness, putting his hands on his hips for emphasis. Kraden didn't respond, however, merely stood in the middle of the road, silent. "What's up, teacher?"

"Shh!" Kraden shushed him suddenly, casting his gaze about. A moment later, the bushes to the right of them rustled, and Rief stiffened with shock. He jumped away from Kraden, drawing his staff and pointing at the bush, but... nothing.

"Kraden, it was probably just a-" Rief was cut off by a flash of darkness, then a man appeared before Kraden, jamming something black into the older man's stomach. Rief cried out, but strong hands gripped him from behind, holding him. Mentally, Rief called for his psynergy to blast his captor away with water, but nothing came. The grip tightened greatly, keeping Rief's neck bent uncomfortably at an awkward angle.

Ahead of him a dark-haired, handsome man stood, looking over Kraden, an unnaturally empty expression on his face. He was dressed head-to-toe in some sort of metallic armor, not unlike the uniforms of the Tuaparang soldiers he'd fought in the past, though it was darker.

"Halcyon, enough." The dark-haired man remarked, waving his hand. The man gripping Rief loosened a bit, but did not retreat entirely. Rief glared at the man who attacked Kraden with hatred as he bent over, staring straight into Kraden's eyes. Kraden was down on his knees, clutching his stomach in pain. When their eyes met, Kraden nearly fell backwards in surprise.

"You!" He said, struggling to get to his feet. "You're dead!"

"Evidently not." The dark-haired man shook his head. "Your powers of observation remain as astute as ever, old man." He turned to the man holding Rief again, an angered expression evident. "Halcyon, let him go already. Are you trying to break his neck?"

"Of course, _general_," Halcyon's voice was low and raspy, sarcastic, but oddly monotone as well, as if he didn't have full control over the flexibility of his voice. He let go of Rief, letting the Mercury Adept tumble into the dust of the road, adding, "What else can be done, my almighty master? Shall I grovel?"

"You can shut your artificial mouth," The dark-haired man responded. More dark-armored men appeared around them, from the bushes or trees or elsewhere. Rief realizes to his horror that they'd been trapped, completely and utterly. "So, Kraden, is this going to be easy for both of us, or do I have to make it hard?"

"Bastard!" Kraden spit out.

The man sighed. "Alrighty, then." His right boot shoots out, kicking Kraden into the dirt. Stunned, the man could hardly resist as the man, Halcyon, who'd been behind Rief, scooped him up. It was an odd sight. Halcyon carried Kraden easily, but his fairly small frame, albeit muscular, didn't seem capable.

"What do you want with us?" Rief asked, looking around now that he was standing again. He was completely surrounded. He might have had a hope of escaping alone, but there was no way to get Kraden out, so he wasn't leaving.

"It's got nothing to do with you, honestly," The dark-haired man said. He tossed a dark baton back to one of his soldiers, who sheathed it quickly. "My master would like to speak with the old geezer before he kicks the bucket. I'm just a transporter to make sure the goods arrive intact." He looked over at Kraden's battered form. "Well, mostly intact."

"Who is your master?" Rief asked hesitantly.

"Oh," The man grinned, "I think you already know the answer to that."

o

A jungle filled with life, teeming to the brim with insects, mammals, birds. One need not look far to find themselves surrounded in totality by the brilliance of nature. Sana's forests were famous for their diversity, their jungle qualities. All manner of species lived in the place, and many a scientist had wandered through them in the vain effort to understand it all.

And in the center of this brilliant ecology lay the Fort Lasting, a stronghold of the Sanan army. In times of peace, the fort would be barely stocked, with but a small regiment to keep the peace in the tiny villages outlying the jungle. The people lived in harmony with the nature here, respecting and appreciating the power of what had existed long before them.

How ill-fitting, then, that so many would die here.

Emperor Unan gazed out the meurtrière, his face a stone facade. Though everything he exuded was of cold command, inwardly he could not deny his fear. King Wo's forces had Fort Lasting surrounded. Somehow the man had also secured most of the secret passages out. Unan clenched his teeth as he stared at the distant black on red flags of Wo's bannermen. The attack was too well prepared, too carefully executed, to be Wo's work. The man was a warrior, not a thinker. He rushed in blindly. He didn't strategize.

Unan was a military genius, but even he was outmatched. He knew this was bad, but he dared not show it to Lady Hinechou and her children. He turned, a look of bemusement on his face, so carefully concealing his inner dread.

"My lady," Unan bowed to Hinechou, then nodded to her children, Ryu-Kou and Hou-Ju. "There have been a few minor delays, but there are still a few passages Wo hasn't yet captured. There is yet time to escape."

"Send my children, then," Hinechou stated, "But I will remain. Perhaps Wo will listen to reason."

"I cannot guarantee-"

"We must try!" Hinechou snapped, before immediately calming herself. She gripped Hou-Ju tighter as Ryu-Kou drifted to the meurtrière. "As long as my children are safe, I do not care what happens to me, but for your sake, Unan, I will try to speak to Wo."

"He is a barbarian that will kill all of us if he has the opportunity." Unan stated simply, crossing his arms. "It's too dangerous to stay, my Lady. Please, leave with the guards. Leave the fighting to me and my men-"

"Men?" Lady Hinechou growled, "There is much that can be accomplished without the use of sword and shield, Unan. A woman's wiles are just as necessary as a man's sword and shield."

Unan sighed. There was no arguing with her. As much as it pained him, Unan knew he'd have to let her stay – for better or for worse. At the very least, the heir, Ryu-Kou, would survive. Perhaps he'd be able to stop Wo elsewhere, but that wasn't likely.

He wasn't about to lie to himself. Unan knew that Wo had crippled Unan's forces. The surprise attacks had left him baffled, with no idea how to respond. Wo's armies pushed them out of Tonfon, into the countryside. His army had split, with half fortifying the tower at the foot of the endless wall. He had heard no word from them since, so it was likely they were already defeated. The rest of his forces, under Unan, fled to Fort Lasting, but Wo had pressed them too hard. Likely the walls would fall at their next strike, and who knew when that was to come?

"Very well." Unan sighed, hanging his head. "Hopefully this won't get you killed. Ryu-Kou, Hou-Ju," Unan spoke sharply to get their attention. "Go with General Xiang, my most loyal soldier, to the wine cellar. The passage there should lead into the Lonely Island Ruins east of here. From there you can flee to Tonfon and-"

"No! I need to fight!" Ryu-Kou stepped forward, angered. "I'm the heir! I can't just flee because things looks a little bad! This is a rebellion I need to be around to put down."

Unan stared at him, unamused. Ryu-Kou didn't understand the danger, but that would have to be dealt with another time, provided they all survived. "You will go with Xiang, and you will not argue." Unan stated, very clearly, to his nephew. The boy backed down. Somehow, that act only made Unan more distressed. Ryu-Kou was a coward. Even with help it was not likely he'd ever retake Sana from Wo if Unan lost today.

But he didn't have time to think on it. All at once the castle shook, throwing Unan and the others to the floor. The final battle had begun. Unan shouted to Xiang, who ushered Ryu-Kou and Hou-Ju out of the room. He looked after them for a long moment before rushing to the meurtrière again. Below him he could see smoke rising from the gates past the courtyard. Some monstrous force had blown a hole into the castle.

Horror rose in Unan's chest as he saw the rank and file of Wo's soldiers march through the orifice. Rows upon rows kept on coming, adorned in head to toe with a black plate that hid any identifying features. Some of his soldiers started organizing a defensive line near the main doors, but Unan knew it wouldn't last long.

"General Liu!" Unan shouted to a short, balding man on a landing below the window, who snapped to attention. "It's earlier than I thought, but fire the traps. Let them know we're not going down without a fight!"

The man nodded and rushed off, up to the roof to give the orders. Unan rushed to his drawers, rifling through them. At the bottom of a mess of silks and fashions he pulled out a buckler and a brilliant longsword that shown dull blue in the low light. He swung it once, testing the weight, before he was satisfied. Lady Hinechou hung against the walls, her face very pale at the sight of weapons.

Unan hadn't the time to strap on his armor. For all he knew, the enemy soldiers had already entered the main building of the fort. No, he would go without and hope the gods were merciful today. He glanced at Lady Hinechou, but she hadn't moved. She'd be safe in the study, for now.

The emperor of Sana rushed into the hallway and heard fighting emanating from below. Unan ran for the stairs, but caught himself right before he leapt down the flights. Standing at the bottom, staring up at him, was a woman that was all too familiar. She wore tight leather armor and a katana was sheathed in her left hand. Her raven hair was tied back, revealing those unforgiving brown eyes. They betrayed a certain murderous intent, one Unan understood perfectly.

"Unan," Meisa said, her words like ice. She nodded as she spoke, ascending the stairs slowly, each muscle in her legs easily visible underneath the leather. "It's been a long time."

Unan was not fooled by the pleasantries. He backed away as she reached the final step, her stone cold face only barely smirking, as if from some inward joke. That joke could very well be Unan's now laughable survival rate. He hadn't counted on Meisa rushing directly for him.

"Still playing as Wo's hunting dog?" Unan spat the name, curling his lip. "I didn't think Wo wanted me dead, just as a prize."

"Prizes are easier to deal with when they're heads on spikes." Meisa drew her blade, the familiar grinding of metal on leather ringing in Unan's ears. "But no, I'm just supposed to bring you to Wo once the fighting's all done with. Maybe you'd like to make things easier on yourself and just surrender?"

She brought the katana up, pointing it at Unan, who held up his longsword. Unan knew he was no fighter, and the skilled Meisa would easily defeat him. Another way out, then, but how? If he was captured, all was for naught. Wo would have him executed within days, a week at most. Unan backed away, and Meisa followed. As they passed the door into the study, Meisa turned to check inside it.

Just as Unan had hoped, a stone tablet crashed down on Meisa's head, knocking her to the ground, out cold. Unan looked to Lady Hinechou gratefully, glad that he had trusted she would know what to do. Hinechou glanced to the fallen woman, then up at Unan, her eyes wide with fear and adrenaline.

"If she's already here, we need to move fast." Unan stated, taking Hinechou's hand. She nodded and they started down the stairs. Outside, he heard screams rise into the air all at once, a sickening, dull splashing sound right before. Unan smiled grimly to himself. General Liu had unleashed one of the keep's defenses. Burning oil would tear through King Wo's forces – until they ran out, of course.

Unan rushed as fast as he dared. If he or Lady Hinechou fell and hurt themselves, they'd be sitting ducks for oncoming soldiers. Meisa was right when she told him that it didn't matter if Unan was alive or not. King Wo wanted Sana's throne, not the respect of neighboring nations. He'd do as he pleased.

Unan clenched his teeth, furious. His own brother! Even after all this time, Unan knew Wo's brutality and anger hadn't faded. At the final battle of the last war, Unan had let his brother slink off to Kaocho to lick his wounds. Unan knew he should have killed Wo back then when he had the chance, but even now he knew it would have been the wrong decision. Morally, of course.

Though what use were morals?

Wo took after their father, Ko, but without the artistry and eloquence their father commanded. Ko would recite famous poetry amidst the bloodiest of battles, recounting ancient oratories of mighty battles as he swung his mighty war hammer. He philosophized amidst murdering, one part madman, one part poet and two parts king. Intelligent, brutal and skilled, Ko was truly a force to be reckoned with.

Unan could only feel lucky that Wo wasn't all his father's son. If so, the world would be doomed.

The fleeing royals ran through a door at the bottom of the stairwell, bursting into the a hallway. Things were uncomfortably calm, but Unan kept moving. He pushed Hinechou into the kitchens to the side, heading to the trapdoors. The wine cellar was through there.

But as he opened the door, the butt of a sword slammed into his skull. Dimly, he felt Lady Hinechou stumble over him, shrieking. Unan looked up, to a man holding a blade, the point held near Unan's right eye. He was slim, but muscled, covered from toe to neck with black armor. A frighteningly calm face peered down at him, disheveled hair falling around yellow eyes. Even as muddled as Unan was from the strike, the sight of the man was unsettling. They flicked from Unan to something to the side, then leaned down, grabbing Unan tightly by the back of his shirt and hoisting him up.

Unan would have gasped if his mind was more clear. King Wo leaned against a doorway. Behind him a row of soldiers appeared, rushing past and out the door Unan had entered from, turning to head up the stairs. Unan tried to yell out a warning to General Liu and his forces above, but the man carrying him grabbed his throat, cutting his yell short.

"How naïve of you, Unan," Wo smirked, straightening himself. "You left the kitchen passage unguarded."

The man towered over everyone else, his striking black beard and muscular Sanan features gave him a powerful air about him. He was no weak, pitiful man, no coward. Strapped to his back was a frighteningly large hammer, etched in bloodied gold and adorned with eloquent designs. Unan realized with a start that it was Ko's weapon, possibly the strongest hammer ever forged. He had to have claimed it when he sacked Tonfon.

"Brother," Unan stated calmly as his head began to clear. Wo's smile widened. "It seems our positions have been reversed from last we met."

"The gods have favored me," Wo stepped forward; he nodded to the yellowed-eyed man. "Let him go, Halcyon. If he tries anything, kill Lady Hinechou."

Unan glanced about. The Lady was held by two soldiers near the wall. King Wo looked her up and down, and the man licked his lips like a predator savoring its prey. Unan shivered.

"Our beloved Kuan certainly had quite the prize, didn't he?" King Wo turned back to Unan. It was no secret that Wo had lusted after Unan's dead brother's wife, even when Kuan was alive. "A pity he had to die at the end of beastman spears. Wouldn't that be your choice?"

"I had no choice." Unan stated, meeting Wo's gaze and not wavering. "Your attacks on Sana left me unable to support my brother when he tried to quell the beastman revolt."

"You know the laws, brother." King Wo walked to Lady Hinechou, grabbing the front of her kimono. She didn't shriek, merely stared calmly into King Wo's eyes. "You were supposed to take her hand in marriage as substitute to Kuan. Yet after all these years, you've left her without a man." King Wo drew a dagger, placing it against the velvet holding her kimono closed. "I'll remedy that!"

"Touch me and I'll gut you." Lady Hinechou stated. So much for her claims of wanting diplomacy, Unan thought, though that could be forgiven under these circumstances.

"Quite the mouth on you, girl." Wo raised his hands to strike.

"Stop!" Unan shouted, stepping forward. Instantly Halcyon's arms wrapped under his own, holding him back. King Wo turned, amused.

"There's desire in your eyes, brother," Wo said, his smile wicked. "As I had thought-"

"Emperor!" Meisa trotted into the room, her back straight and a bloody katana in her left hand. The body of General Liu was dragged by a few soldiers behind her. "We've taken the keep more quickly than anticipated. The locations of the secret passages served us well."

"How...?" Unan looked to her quizzically. It had seemed odd that Meisa had reached him so quickly despite being incapacitated, that King Wo was so certain of victory that he'd converse with Unan rather than fight. Was it even a battle?

"General Xiang was a useful spy." King Wo stated while laughing, as if reading Unan's mind. "Oh, and doesn't he have Lady Hinechou's children? Even more wonderful." Unan gritted his teeth. "Halcyon, take the previous emperor away. I'll need time to decide his fate."

Unan felt the soldier holding him nod, then a powerful blow to the back of his head. The last thing he saw before all went dark was Lady Hinechou's terrified face as the soldiers dragged her away, King Wo following.


	2. Whims and Recollections

**Author's Note:**

Just as a forewarning, the POV with Matthew, Karis and Tyrell is reused, but modified heavily. Everything else is new.

* * *

**Whims and Recollections**

"You gonna be okay, kid?" Sveta smiled amiably up at Eoleo, who stood alone with her on the docks of Belinsk. He gestured to the city not far away, a concerned expression on his face. "I don't mean any insult or anything, but your city looks like its falling apart, and those guards-" He tossed a suspicious glance at the men starting to arrive on the docks, soldiers to escort Sveta to the castle, "-don't look very happy to see you."

It was true, Sveta thought, the guards and the city seemed almost hostile, but she couldn't let that show. This was _her _city. "Relax, Eoleo," Sveta said confidently, although, admittedly, she didn't feel nearly as certain. "The people are hurt from the Grave Eclipse, and I'm sure many think I ran away when I left with Matthew. It will take time to earn their trust as the new queen, but I'm sure I will succeed."

"Maybe I can stay for a little while?" Eoleo asked hopefully, "You know, help you settle in, protect you if you need it."

"That's sweet, Eoleo, but," Sveta shook her head, "You have your own country to return to. Your people need you as much as mine need me. This is a time of rebuilding, and of peace. Everything will be fine."  
Eoleo sighed, nodding. "You're right, I suppose."

"So, this is goodbye, I guess?" Sveta looked up at him, and the pirate nodded.

"I guess it is." Sveta wrapped the large pirate in a hug, saddened. She knew she'd see him again, but that didn't stop her from feeling hurt. Over the last few days she'd lost all her friends, all the friendly faces in her life. Soon she'd return to courts and political intrigue and be surrounded by those wishing to do her wrong.

She and Eoleo finished their farewells, the pirate turning slowly to walk back up the gangplank onto the ship. As she watched him ascend, suddenly the shape of his back brought another familiar face to mind, as well as all the sadness that accompanied his image.

Sveta knew she hadn't parted with Matthew on the best of terms, but she knew it was for the best. Humans were not welcome in the courts of Belinsk, especially not Matthew, who helped start the Grave Eclipse. When the queen-to-be first started adventuring with him, rumors quickly started circulating about an illicit love affair between queen and warrior. She ignored them at the time, not bothering to tell Matthew or the others in case they decided that she shouldn't be traveling with them, but after running away with Matthew and her friends, the people likely looked upon them with abandonment.

Glancing at the ruined remains of the Luna Tower, Sveta felt her stomach knot up in guilt. She had caused this, indirectly or not. Whether the people knew or not, she had no idea. Soon, however, Himi came walking down off the ship to distract her.

Goodbyes were never easy.

Himi was not an emotional girl, so the farewell was decently brief, which Sveta was grateful for. Long and tearful goodbyes only hurt more, and they would only serve as a painful reminder of the closing of an entire chapter in her life.

After Himi disappeared aboard the ship, they set off. She watched the ship grow more distant for a long while before turning back to her city, walking towards the soldiers waiting at the end of the docks. Belinsk. Her kingdom remained to be ruled, as much as Sveta wanted to deny it.

Matthew.

She couldn't stop thinking about him. Hopefully, in time, the pain would pass. She knew the most likely path her future holds – Sveta would have to marry some upstart noble to create stability, or maybe some foreign prince to circumvent a potential war. Nobles and princes were a young girl's dream, but to Sveta they seemed horrid ideas.

She wanted Matthew, and none other, but she couldn't have him. Likely Matthew would marry Karis or some other attractive girl who longed for his affections. Sveta knew Karis favored Matthew – it was obvious – but when Matthew became clear about favoring Sveta, Karis had, thankfully, backed off. The two remained friends despite their competing affections. However, Sveta was now out of the picture. Jealousy tore at her, thinking about Karis and Matthew together.

_They could be making love at this very moment. _Sveta's ears straightened in surprise at the thought, a deep blush running across her face. _No, no. That's incredibly unlikely. _She steeled herself for the thought that came next. _Though it may happen eventually._

Rather than be torn apart by jealousy at this perceived eventuality, she found herself saddened, tempted to cry. She missed Matthew, she missed all of them, even Karis, but she couldn't let her emotions show. A few moments later she stood in front of what she took to be the captain of the guards sent to escort her.

There were maybe ten of them, counting the leader, who she recognized.

"Lieutenant Colonel Julius." Sveta nodded at him as she approached. He was a tall cat beastman, with lean, muscular features, and dark blue fur that ran in elegant, yet simple, patterns across his exposed neck and face.

"It's Colonel Julius now, your highness." Julius said simply, his face betraying little emotion. "I've been promoted in your absence by the Seneschal."

"The Seneschal is a domestic man," Sveta replied, surprised. "Why is he promoting soldiers?"

"Our new Seneschal was keeping order in your absence, your highness." Julius nodded to his men, who started to get into formation. "Unfortunately, Gerald perished in the Grace Eclipse. His replacement has proved invaluable in keeping order."

"Who is he?"

"A foreign soldier. He's currently out in the country." Julius' speech seemed wooden, almost uninterested, but Sveta put the thought out of mind.

_He's very attractive. _Sveta thought suddenly, surprised at her own observation. Julius had been a teenager in military training when Sveta was a little girl, and he'd occasionally keep her company on the days when Volechek was too consumed with the duties of rule. Beastmen varied in appearance of being more or less human, with the ones greatly resembling humans being fairly rare for pure-blooded beastmen.

Sveta was one of the incredibly human beastman, with only her feet, hands, ears and some slight facial features appearing inhuman, and she was well-aware of the attention people lavished upon her for it. Beastmen like her were often considered the height of beauty, and in her youth several prominent suitors pursued her. Volechek turned them all down, of course, though Sveta wasn't quite sure why. It would have been advantageous to marry Sveta to one of the more problematic nobles.

Julius was much the same as her, she noticed. Phenomenally human, though perhaps less so than Sveta was. His face was recognizably feline. _Or maybe instead of a noble or prince, I could marry a warrior? _Sveta's mind wandered, but just for a moment. She snapped back to reality, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty, as if unfaithful to Matthew. _Why would I be unfaithful? Matthew and I don't have anything anymore. I could pursue anyone I wanted, within reason._

She followed the soldiers back towards the castle, observing the town as she walked. Many of the buildings were run down or ruined, with boarded up windows or busted down doors. Her throat clenched in sorrow. This was _her _city. To see it so dilapidated nearly brought tears to her eyes, and for those few moments, her thoughts of Matthew and Julius were forgotten.

People watched her from the streets, not celebrating her return, but observing warily like one does a potential predator. The people were relieved to be out of the Grave Eclipse, that much was sure, but their happiness was muted by their overwhelming despair and uncertainty of whether the horrors were truly over. Sveta gritted her teeth.

_I should never have left. _She thought, but she knew it was a stupid idea. While she left, at first, out of confusion, shock and anguish, Sveta knew her role in stopping the Grave Eclipse was of incredible importance. Without her, they could never have succeeded.

But still she remembered that terrified longing as she gripped Matthew's chest, crying at the loss of her brother, of her city. Though she didn't mention it at the time, even with all that she had lost, at that point, she felt glad Matthew was with her. Suddenly she felt a great loss. She'd never even kissed Matthew. Maybe now she never will.

As Sveta and her troupe of soldiers entered the castle, loneliness crept over her. A city had to be rebuilt, but it seemed she had to do it alone.

o

The ocean opened out around him, seemingly in eternity. Of course, he'd seen the edges of the world, so he couldn't logically say that. However, always there was something romantic about the open seas, the spray in his face, the wind in his hair. All that cliché nonsense his father instilled in him.

Three days out, and he was just far enough away from Yamata as to no longer see it. Himi's farewell was a simple one – he and the girl didn't have an incredible amount of time to get acquainted during the journey. Still, it was sad to see her go. Himi was the last link to the past. The adventure was over. He'd saved Morgal, circumventing life-threatening dangers and defeating monsters of chaos and legend.

Now came the hard part.

Luckily, Champa's people didn't suffer the same as many other cities caught in the Grave Eclipse. While many died, the evacuation was swift and efficient, and most survived. The people were grateful, happy and .

But soon he'd be a king.

He never wanted the position, really. Briggs was an overly ambitious bastard that didn't think about what he was signing up for when he created the kingdom of Champa. What was once a small town became a city, with several outlying villages both on the mainland and outlying islands. Pirates became soldiers, and captains became generals.

And it was all Eoleo's to inherit.

The prospect of rule terrified him. He wanted to ask Sveta or Amiti what it was like; they seemed to calm in their acceptance of their roles, and they were both half his age. Briefly he reflected the oddly noble bearings of his traveling companions. Amiti, Sveta, Himi and himself were all of royal stock.

Suddenly nostalgic, he thought back to the many moments spent adventuring, and of the budding romances that seemed to pop up. Perhaps they were simply responses to a desperate situation, a need for comfort and validation.

Matthew and Sveta were, perhaps, the most obvious 'couple'. While neither was outwardly affectionate, it was obvious the two were growing close. Private talks, sleeping next to each other, holding hands when they thought nobody was looking. It was all so very sweet.

What Eoleo didn't understand was why they had suddenly fought after the Apollo Sanctum. Perhaps that could be explained with emotional stress from Volechek's death. Perhaps Eoleo should mind his own business. Either way, it didn't matter much anymore. Sveta and Matthew were no more, and he was going to be his own king now. He'd need a queen.

Eoleo grinned. He looked forward to being around women his own age again.

Lost in fantasies, he didn't notice when the sky grew dark and his men began shouting. After a moment, his second, Han, shook him, pointing and shouting at a dot in the sky. _An attack?  
_He grabbed his spyglass, but couldn't get any sort of fix on the fast-moving object. What he could tell that it was approaching, a spinning mass of air trailing it.

"It's a dancing tornado," Eoleo said as it grew closer. He could just barely make out a man at the head of it, but to his horror, it was heading directly for the ship. He shouted to the crew, "Brace yourselves!" moments before the man impacted the center of the deck, sending shockwaves out around him, knocking Eoleo to the ground.

He stood quickly, expecting a gaping hole in his ship, but there was... nothing. A mischievous-looking man, who was quite short, was standing there, a metal contraption in his hands. A devilish grin was plastered on his face, long, lanky dirty blonde hair flowing around purple eyes.

"Eoleo!" The man shouts, running up to him, the metal contraption reassembling itself into a staff. The rest of Eoleo's crew, who had gathered due to the commotion, stepped back in awe, some people even shouting, unfamiliar with the technology.

"Who are you?" Eoleo asked, confused. "And what are you doing flying onto my ship in the middle of the sea?"

"Oh, this is fairly routine," The man said, pointing to his staff. "Called a soarwing, though I've modified it a bit for performance's sake." He grins even wider, if that's even possible. "I like flying fast. Most people think it's dangerous, but I prefer it that way."

"Who-" Eoleo starts, but the man cuts him off.

"I'm Ivan, Karis's father." Ivan turned about, examining the ship. "Haven't been on a water ship in years. I think I spend most of my time in the air these days." Eoleo started to speak, but he was again cut off. "As for the next question, well, I'm here for a very specific reason. See, there's this problem I've been having and I-" He stopped suddenly, "Oh yeah, yes, by the way."  
"What?"  
"The answer to your next question is yes."

"I didn't even ask it yet!" Eoleo felt himself grow frustrated. _Is he insane? Who the hell is this Ivan character and why did he fly onto my ship?_

"Never heard of me, huh?" Ivan shook his head. "That's too bad."

"What do you want?" Eoleo finally managed to complete a sentence. Ivan's quick answer implies he already knew it was coming.

"I wish to help you." Ivan says simply. "Because dark times are ahead, my friend, and we both may not survive them."

o

"It's not here," Karis fell back onto the crate, her head in her hands. She held herself there for a few moments before standing up, knocking the stack of papers into the air angrily. "Damn it all! I thought we might've had a stroke of luck for once. If we had those Soarwing blueprints..."

Matthew looked back through the spyglass, continuing to scan Sol Sanctum for any sort of clue or movement as to where Isaac could have gone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the psynergy vortex vibrating and humming lowly, he quickly looked away from the blank space in the middle of the sky.

"Karis, there's nothing here," He heard Tyrell say, his heavy footsteps padding along the wooden floor. "Everything that might've given us a clue was likely burned in the fire. We're lucky the building is still standing, let alone that as few things that survived did. It could have been much worse."

"There has to be some clue!" Karis stomped her feet, obviously flustered. Matthew had noticed the gradual rise of tensions at the plateau in the last few weeks. When they had arrived to a burning house, a massive psynergy vortex and no Isaac or Garet, conditions got harsh, fast.

"Well, nothing's here any longer!" Tyrell said impatiently. After a moment he sighed and spoke again, this time slower and more understanding. "We've searched the house and the surrounding land up and down numerous times. Isaac's gone, and Garet didn't say anything about him in the letter. I wish I knew what happened, but it has to have something to do with that psynergy vortex. Maybe Ivan knows what the hell is happening?"

"I'd like to think that, but Ivan's in Champa. It's too far away for him to know this is even here." Karis swore, putting her head in her hands and sitting down on a crate.

"We can send a bird from Patcher's Place." Tyrell said quickly. "We don't need to see him directly. I think it's best that we wait here, like my Dad wanted. You read the letter too, right?"

The three friends had received two letters: One from Eoleo requesting help, and one from Garet, ordering them to stay at the plateau. Champa was close to war with Sana, and Ivan was at his back as an ad visor – Matthew wasn't sure where they had met.

"Why are you so hesitant to go on a journey, Tyrell?" Karis sighed. "There's nothing of value for us here anyway. We might as well head to Champa. If anything is going to happen, it's there. This psynergy vortex isn't giving us any god-damn clue."

Matthew lowered the spyglass and looked back at the two of them. Karis and Tyrell were glaring at each other, but immediately stopped when they noticed Matthew had turned to them. Karis folded her arms, turning away from Tyrell abruptly.

"We don't need to get involved in a war." Tyrell said, with such finality that seemed unusual for the Mars adept.

"They might need us. If Champa goes to war with Sana, my father could be killed!" Karis spun Tyrell around. "Don't you even care about him? I need to be there!" Karis's shoulders slumped and her eyes seemed glassy and wet for just a moment, but then she blinked and the vulnerability was gone, replaced with the more familiar cold expression. "You know I'm right, Tyrell. You don't ever make successful plans."

Matthew stood then, tired of their bickering. Both Tyrell and Karis went silent, expecting Matthew to say something. The Venus adept narrowed at his eyes at them for a long moment, knowing the silence was uncomfortable for them, used as they were to constant bickering.

"You're afraid of disobeying your father." Matthew stated finally, to Tyrell. They glared at each other. "But Ivan is the only other person we know of to have been studying Sol Sanctum and the psynergy vortexes. For all we know, Isaac is with him or soon will be. I'm heading to Champa."

Matthew started for his room, oblivious to the shocked stares behind him. Neither Tyrell or Karis had thought Matthew would have wanted to leave so soon, the Venus adept knew. Karis just wanted to be reunited with her father, and Tyrell had grown weary of travel, but both had thought Matthew too emotionally worn out to make any sort of definitive decision, it would seem.

He had lost Sveta, after all. Matthew cringed just thinking about what had happened. There had been no word since she departed from them a month before. Likely she had resumed her duties as queen of Belinsk, forgetting about him quickly and easily.

Going to Champa would put him closer to a ship, one he could take to get to Belinsk to see her. He knew they couldn't separate forever in the way they did. He had to see her again. Any excuse was worth it. Impending war be damned, massive psynergy vortex be damned, he'd see Sveta again.

"May I remind you that Wo is the ruler of Sana now." Karis blocked the door as Matthew gathered what few things he needed – the Sol Blade, spare travel clothes, small necessities. "Last time we saw him, he tried to kill us. Unless we could, by some miracle, get through the Sanan blockade that's been put up around Southern Angara, we'd be stuck in Champa even if you wanted to get to Belinsk."

"You see right through me." Matthew smiled at her.

"There's no way you'd agree with me on the basis of just seeing my father. You're too obvious, Matthew." Karis rolled her eyes. Matthew paused, standing straight. Tyrell looked confused behind her, one eyebrow shooting up. Karis smirked knowingly. "You don't care about seeing my father. You simply want to see that kitty-dog again. It has been a month since she broke your heart and you're still not over her." Karis's expression suddenly went soft, as if sympathetic, but her tone was still somewhat harsh. "Get over her, Matthew. What use is being in love with a phantom that cannot be seen or touched?"

Matthew said nothing, just brushing past her, shouldering his pack. The Sol Blade shimmered slightly as it swung on his belt. Tyrell looked at him as he passed before turning back to Karis. Matthew paid them no mind. The past few months hadn't exactly been peaceful. The three friends had been growing more and more distant, each wanting to pursue their own desires but locked in a perverse indecision. They bantered and they played around, but they could not make a decision, and that killed Matthew inside. He needed action.

"Karis, you didn't need to bring up Sveta." He heard Tyrell say, but he also heard Karis' indignant sigh.

Matthew left the burned building through where one of the eastern walls used to be. It was the primary entrance now, since the door had been blocked by the collapsed telescope. Ducking under a fallen beam, the Venus adept glanced at the psynergy vortex. It might have been a trick of the evening light, but it almost seemed larger. He shrugged the idea away, chalking it up to paranoia.

The vortex had been at the forefront of all their minds since they returned to the empty, burned house. Every day they awoke to its pulsations and whining. Occasionally, when both Karis and Tyrell were gone on errands and Matthew sat on the plateau alone, he thought he could hear it calling to him softly.

The words were unclear, uncertain. Some days he'd sit their listening for hours, drawn to that perverse energy. Somehow it comforted him, despite how Tyrell and Karis mentioned how repulsive it felt. Inside it he could feel loss and fear, screams of injustice and pain, but they seemed familiar, like a consolation to horrors seen rather than additional nightmares to haunt him.

He stopped at the edge of the plateau, staring at the massive black nothingness, the purple spiral circling into the center, that infinitesimally small point where it glowed brighter than the sun, in stark contrast to the emptiness of the rest of it. The thing's edge was not a hundred feet away from the plateau, and it seemed to stretch further than that each way from the center. It appeared two dimensional when looking at it, but Matthew knew from his own observations that it was perfectly spherical.

From there he set off down the Goma Plateau, distracted but determined. In his mind he still saw Sveta; he didn't care if Tyrell or Karis followed him. In those moments, the only thing that really mattered to him was seeing her again.

By the time he reached the bottom of the mountain, darkness had already fallen. In the distance he could see Patcher's Place lightly aglow from their lanterns. He knew they felt so protected in that town, so safe and secure. Matthew scowled, before turning back to the Goma Plateau. In the distance he saw small sparks of purple, but that was it.

He set up camp and fell asleep quickly, not bothering to take watch. He just didn't care. As he dreamed of Sveta's face again, he didn't notice as Karis quietly entered the camp, her own traveling pack on her back. She woke Matthew softly, but when he opened his eyes, for a moment he saw Sveta.

"You can't be-" Matthew reached a hand up to stroke her cheek. He thought he could see a hot blush, but then he realized what he was doing. "I'm sorry!" He bolted upright, embarrassed.

Karis's embarrassment turned to light laughter as she sat next to Matthew, cuddling up to him. She'd done it numerous times in the past, even on their journey to save Belinsk, and Matthew never felt it was more than a gesture of friendship. Something about this time was off, though, more intimate.

"Tyrell is staying at the house," Karis explained, "I want to come with you, at least as far as Champa. Ivan would be terribly surprised to see me, and I wouldn't mind seeing my Dad again."

"I could use the company." Matthew admitted, but suddenly he felt Karis's warm hand wrap around his own. He looked at her, and she smiled sweetly.

_Just a friendly gesture, right?_

o

Sveta sighed as she disrobed, her servants folding her clothes and stowing them on a rack nearby. Her armor went somewhere, but Sveta didn't bother looking for it. She didn't exactly need it in the safety of the castle. Ahead of her, the large bath was steaming. Sveta knew she needed to clean herself – the last few weeks had been harsh, especially as people were just beginning to accept her rule.

"Heath..." Sveta mumbled the name of the Seneschal to herself. He was still missing, for some odd reason. Apparently he was supposed to be back the day before, but that, obviously, didn't happen. For some reason the name rang as familiar, from some long-ago memory, a silvery face and orange eyes, but she had no idea why. Heath wasn't a man that served in the castle while Sveta could remember.

"Would you like some tea, milady?" One of the servants asked. She was a pretty little thing, a diminutive rat beastman with pretty freckles dotting her face. Sveta thought for a moment what it would be like to tear off her clothes and ravish her.

_Stop it, Sveta! _She suddenly said to herself, looking away, embarrassed by the thought. _You've been undressing everybody with your eyes, man and woman, ever since you got here. What's gotten into you?_

"Uhm, sure! I'll have some, uh, tea." Sveta responded meekly, still embarrassed. She's almost immediately handed some hot tea, the faint smell of almonds rising from it. She sips from it, feeling suddenly lethargic. The last few days really had been hard. It was no surprise she was distracting herself from her duties with these rampant sexual thoughts.

_I was never like this around Matthew. _She shook her head, taking a long drink of the tea, despite its heat. After a moment, she realized the servants were gone.

"Tia? Walta?" She called, but no voice replied back. They'd left her alone in the bathroom. Shrugging and thinking nothing more of it, she set her drink down and proceeded with taking her white slip off. Before she got if over her head, however, a large crash exploded nearby.

Instantly Sveta pulled the slip back down, turning towards the source, a roof window in the bathroom, its glass sprayed out on the floor. A man in dark, familiar armor jumped through, follow by another.

_Tuaparang! In my bathroom? _Sveta glanced about quickly for her weapons, but found nothing. The servants had removed them somewhere. _Damn it! Were they in on this?_

Unthinking, responding with years of training and discipline, she leaped onto the nearest guard, bearing him the ground with her fists. Her first punch caved in his helmet, the second collapsing his now-exposed trachea. She jumped back as more soldiers slid through the window. Behind her the door burst open, revealing a smiling Colonel Julius, soldiers flanking him.

"Julius! Help!" Sveta called, but he didn't respond. "Julius!"

"Just surrender, _my queen_," He spit the world like an anathema. "This will all be over soon."

Sveta tried to punch at the next soldier, but found her arm unresponsive. She slipped, falling to the floor and slamming her head against the tile. Sveta struggled to get to her feet, but her arms wouldn't respond.

_The tea..._ She realized to her horror as her muscles stop responding.

"Goodnight, sweet princess," Julius walked over, kicking her in the head, and all went dark.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hey there! At the bottom of every chapter (or top, sometimes, if I feel like it), I'll be doing review responses for the previous chapter (or any that I missed in the past). Hopefully that helps fuel everyone who reads this to review my story, since you're guaranteed an answer from me. :P Anyway, here goes!

**JamesK716: **Yes, the intention is dark and gritty, but where this differs from Risen is that I no longer agree with the total doom-and-gloom mentality that I had back in the day. I like variety, so darkness will be interspersed with light, you could say. Comedy and occasional fluff or whatever that serves as a polarizing agent to the dark things going on.

**jollygreendragon: **Thanks for the compliment! :P The reason it's T isn't some fancy logical reason. I just like rating my stories as T. (Risen was T.) It's kind've a reminder to readers that I'm not writing Fifty Shades of Grey, I guess. I don't have an interest in writing lemonfics, and if I want two characters to have sex, I'll just show the intro and leave readers to imagine the scene on their own. So yeah, no sex here. :P However, that doesn't mean that sexuality doesn't play a role in my characters. I guess the inclusion of sex drives and whatnot makes this borderline-M material, but I think it's still T.

As for gore, well, I'm not a big gore fan. I like psychological battles more than blood and guts. You can see this in Risen, where I have Matthew and Sveta placed in situations where their own minds are turning against them, and there's actually not a lot of bloodshed. But who knows? Maybe I'll throw in a scene somewhere where some dude gets his heart torn out and eaten. I like variety enough to do that.

Also, thanks for the bump in your story. :P Maybe that'll draw in more readers.

**Cstan: **The responsibilities of royalty, as well as political maneuvering and whatnot is something I plan to include in this fanfic. It's kinda the reason why I placed that emphasis on Amiti, Eoleo, Sveta and Himi all being in political positions in this chapter. The Tuaparang are involved in more than Sana, though, as you'll see. Also, I hate typos. I've been writing A Merciful Game for Sword Art Online, which is in first person _and _present tense, so transitioning to writing this has left me really frustrated. I keep writing "I" or present tense verbs and whatnot. It's horrible. D:


	3. Of Kings

**Of Kings**

Karis bit her lip as the bath water flowed down her bare back, just a tad too hot for her liking. At Karis's insistence, Matthew decided to spend the day in Patcher's Place to stock up on the supplies needed to travel. He had been so intent on rushing off to Champa that he hardly recognized the need for food and water for the trip. Even now, Karis knew that, rather than sleep or do something productive, Matthew was sitting on the roof of the inn, staring off in the direction of Morgal.

Was it called love? Karis wondered, thinking of the time Sveta and Matthew had spent together. Secretly, Karis felt happy Matthew and the kitty-dog were separated, though the unpleasantly heartless thought made her feel a bit selfish. Karis had thought of this trip as her chance, so to speak. Her chance to finally get close to Matthew, like she always wanted.

Ever since they were children, Karis had wanted him. She wasn't sure why he had never appeared to be interested – perhaps she'd be more content if she could read minds, though she did view the power as a sort of curse, and was thus mostly glad not to possess it. However, when it came to Matthew, curse or not, she wanted to know how he thought of her.

She let him hold her hand on the first night away from home, Karis remembered, blushing at the thought of it. She shifted her weight in the bath, slipping down so that she was submerged up to her eyes. Patcher's Place had a small bath house, unfortunately, but it was better than most places, she supposed. When they rented a room at the inn, Karis knew from experience that she was going to miss the relaxing water.

Her muscles began to loosen up as she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander, she suddenly thought of Matthew, of what he'd look like, naked in this bath with her, of what they could do together. The admittedly alluring prospect was broken when she thought of Sveta, and jealousy started to take hold of her.

_Have they seen each other naked? _Karis wondered, suddenly wracking her head for any indication that their relationship had progressed beyond mere innocent hand-holding. _No, they can't have. I don't think they even kissed on the entire journey._

"Ah, damn it!" Karis sat up suddenly, hiding her eyes with her hands. "Why am I stuck on this!?" It was overly-emotional nonsense, Karis thought. She had suppressed these feelings on the quest to save Belinsk. Why couldn't she do so now?  
_Because this is your chance._

The thought was sudden, exhilarating, yet left her confused and guilt-ridden. Matthew belonged to Sveta. Who was Karis to intrude?

_Because if you don't, he'll never be yours._

She lowered her hands, a sort of numb feeling running through her. Everything she was thinking was true. She had the opportunity for anything to happen between here and Champa. Even if it was just for one moment, if Matthew surrendered himself to her feelings just for an instant, then it would be worth it. Sveta didn't need to know anything. It was a long and treacherous journey. Anything could happen, Karis supposed.

But she felt guilty and hesitant as well. It was wrong – she knew it was. Matthew and Sveta were lovers. Or were they? They separated. Didn't that mean that Karis had a rightful opportunity? How was it the fault of Karis if Sveta blew her chance with Matthew?

As she grew more and more tired, more relaxed, Karis drifted off, thinking of how she could win Matthew's affections, trapped in a cycle of guilt and excitement. At once tantalizing and cruel, her heart tormented her enough so that she grew tired of her own mind, and left the bath.

Karis slipped into a clean set of her nightwear, a cute little white slip. Admittedly, she got the idea from Sveta, who commonly wore one to sleep when they stayed at inns. Matthew seemed to like it. As she pulled it on, Karis couldn't help but be confused by Matthew's seeming lack of interest in her – she had an attractive face and body, she had a pleasing enough personality and she definitely wasn't dim-witted. What exactly did Matthew see in Sveta that Karis lacked?  
Both were attractive and intelligent – they were both even Jupiter Adepts – so their only real difference would be personality, she supposed.

"Stop it, Karis!" She said to herself, alone in her room. She felt stupid, comparing herself to Sveta. In fact, the entire train of thought that led her to this point was stupid. She shouldn't be basing herself around an attraction to a boy. She can't define herself that way.

"Damn it all." Karis thought to herself as she climbed into her bed, "Sveta is so lucky."

o

A small bit of light, just a little, could escape through that lone crack in the ceiling. It was thin, long, and only opened along its middle to let in what precious little light it could. It couldn't have been wider than a centimeter at most, but to a prisoner, it looked like hope incarnate.

Hope, ever out of reach. Being chained to a wall didn't help with that.

Sveta found herself staring at that crack more than anything else these days, not that there was much else to look at. The dungeons of castle Belinsk were traditional, with cells lining along the walls of long, subterranean hallways. She could tell she was deep underground, even though she had never actually been down to this particular corner of the dungeons before. The light filtering through the crack seemed to come from quite a way above.

Her capture had been planned so intricately that even her bed-servants that helped her change were involved. They had ensured her weapons were nowhere nearby when the black-armored men stormed her bathing room, and even had the audacity to poison her. Poison her! Sveta ran the scene over in her head hundreds of time. How odd that she could go from being attracted to a girl to completely hating her, in the span of five minutes or less.

Colonel Julius must have been at the head of the attack. Sveta subconsciously felt the left side of her jaw itch, where Julius had kicked her, a blow heavy enough to knock her out. Even bare-handed and nearly naked, Sveta was dangerous. In a sense she was glad they felt it necessary to poison her.

When Julius first led her into these catacombs and chained her wrists to the walls, Sveta had nothing else on her mind but escape. She tried psynergy, but found the wind simply would not come to her. Next she figured upon freeing herself from her restraints, but she needed time. Every few hours the soldiers came down to feed her and the other prison, an insane man in another cell, though they were fed at different times, for some reason. So she bid her time, waiting.

On one particularly slow day in prison – the insane man had been tortured to death the day before – Sveta decided to get to work. She spent hours chafing her wrists against that rough metal, blood running down her arms, lubricating her wrists and easing her job. When she finally slipped free, she realized it was a fool's mission. Nowhere in the small cell would her psynergy come to her, and when dinner came, the guard quickly noticed she was free, calling for Julius despite her urgent pleas otherwise.

"What a naughty girl," Julius purred from the dark, motioning the guard to leave them alone. The door was locked behind him, and Sveta saw no key at Julius' waist, but Sveta still thought it was a risky idea to join Sveta in her cell, especially when she was unbound. "Freeing yourself? Oh, look at you," The voice was low, seductive and smooth. It was not the Julius she had grown up knowing. It was some other creature, some vile beast let loose from its leash. "Your so bloody and dirty. Didn't we capture you in a bath?" _The hidden, dark shadows from the hearts of man._

Sveta briefly looked down at her hands. Long gashes ran down the lengths of her arms; congealed blood caked her skin, mixed with dirt she had picked up along the way. She had on only the simple white slip she'd been wearing at the time of her attack, her underwear underneath. The bastards hadn't even allowed her to change clothes since she arrived.

"Is this any way to treat your queen?" Sveta snarled, baring her fangs. Briefly she recalled the first time Matthew had seen them; he'd been shocked by the inhumanity of them. '_I'm not human_,' she had responded, to which Matthew merely laughed and replied, '_I know_.'

"The queen in rags?" Julius had an odd presence. On the one hand, he was familiar, a formerly-trusted soldier that served under Volechek faithfully; and though Sveta had known him for years, there were always the rumors. Volechek had advised her never to listen to rumor and conjecture, but there they remained. '_Young girl raped and murdered in the night_,' She would hear, '_A soldier was seen running away_.' If Julius was responsible for her capture, perhaps the rumors held truth after all.

"Even in rags I afford more respect than you, churl." Sveta slid one foot back, twisting her body so Julius only saw her side, raising her fists to be ready to strike at any moment. "You will tell me why I've been thrown down here. Who rules Morgal? Who is my usurper? You?" Sveta scoffed.

"Pretty girl, such a pretty girl." Julius said, his tone off, as if he wasn't even paying attention. From his hip he drew a black baton, shaking his head. _A wooden stick to restrain me? Is he an idiot? _"But such a," Julius' face contorted in rage, "_NAUGHTY GIRL!_"

He lunged for her, swinging the baton. Sveta ducked under it, blocking his arm with her right wrist, ignoring the pain from her many cuts. Her left rammed into into his stomach, but instead of flesh, her hand met a hard, yet oddly fluid, substance. Almost like a liquid steel. It rippled under the impact, but she could tell Julius hadn't even felt her blow.

Before she could react from the surprise, Julius' left arm shot out, ripping her arm away from his baton hand and turning her halfway around. Predictably, the baton slammed into the back of her head, knocking her to the ground. The hit drained her, mentally and physically, much more than Sveta would have thought a head wound of that strength logically would.

_Something special about the baton...? _She could barely think as she fell to her hands and knees. Julius pushed her over onto her back with his foot. She lay there, helpless, as Julius straddled her, smiling wickedly.

"Such a naughty girl, your highness." Julius' smile was all she could focus on. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of her head as he brought his face close to hers. His eyes were wide, crazed, his grin expanding beyond what seemed natural. "Escaping is a no-no. You should understand that. But that's okay," His face suddenly changes as he leans back up, sitting on her pelvis, a benevolent and kind expression taking the place of the insane one. "It's only natural that you try to escape one time. Everybody does. So I won't give you my punishment just yet."

Sveta was slowly regaining her wits, but that dark baton was always menacingly close to Julius' grip – she dared not attempt to attack him again. He dragged her to the wall again, then stopped suddenly, standing straight up. For a moment, Sveta was confused, but then his boot impacted her hard in her side. She coughed, fairly certain she was tasting blood. He kicked her a few times, each hit knocking the air out of her, leaving Sveta gasping for air and sputtering blood, Julius himself shouting incomprehensibly with each stroke. She was lucky none of them broke a rib – or maybe they did; she had no way of knowing. She barely felt her wrists being shackled against the wall when the kicks finally ended, but she saw Julius clearly when he knelt by her again, the baton clearly displayed.

"Next time you try to escape, dear queen," His voice was almost giddy. "We're going to get very intimate, oh yes. Very intimate. With a baton!" He cackled, throwing himself upright, shouting. "With a baton! Who would have thought!?" Sveta could hear him laughing for a while yet after he departed.

Ever since then she'd been compliant, making sure that the only time she was out of the chains was when she was given her food, which was only allowed because the guard was forced to watch her eat. And though she never abandoned her plans to escape, when she was alone, she found herself standing less as she resigned herself to that dark chamber. More often she just sat against the ground, her arms shackled above her, numb, as she gazed up at the ceiling. That lone crack soon became her only focus as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

Days and nights melted together. The only time she felt truly conscious was when the light could be seen. Sometimes she'd see it fizzle, move about, grow larger, but then she'd blink and it would be still again. Sometimes she feared that insanity would creep up in this place. How long had she been here? And how much longer? That insane man she could barely remember, how long had he been shackled here? Months? Years?

But then she'd stare at that crack in the sky and let it fill her. There was nothing else in the world, it seemed. The guards that brought her food, every time silent, their faces masks, meant nothing. Julius injuring her was a distant past, though she was grateful that was the only time he visited. Her capture seemed an eternity ago, some twisted kind of birth. All that came before meant nothing, almost.

Occasionally she'd see that blonde hair again, those bluish gray eyes, and she'd remember a love she tried to forget, yet never succeeded. She didn't think she ever would. It was too painful to think of it, though. The crack in the sky helped distract her. She stopped eating, merely staring at the food when they brought it. Eventually they didn't even bother to let her off her chains.

Julius came again eventually, shattering her solitary reverie. Sveta could barely focus when he stepped into the chamber, handing his door key to a guard and hurrying him to leave them alone. Sveta tried to blink him away, thinking him illusory, but he did not vanish. Her consciousness felt clouded. She thought she had a fever, but it was hard to tell now. Nothing much made sense anymore.

"You've been such a good little princess." Julius unshackled her, letting Sveta slump to the ground. They seemed to explode with pain as circulation returned to normal. Much of her arms were swollen, red, and vicious, pus leaking from several of her cuts. "I decided to come down here today to give you a little reward."

Sveta was barely conscious of Julius laying her on her back, a claw cutting along the withered slip she had been wearing. Barely realizing that he had exposed her underwear and bare stomach, Sveta attempted to roll to the side to cover herself, but Julius easily held her back. She was weak, too weak. Sickness and fever clouded her head, but Julius' gaze bored into her, terrorizing her.

"No, no!" Sveta meekly called out as Julius laughed, running a hand along the inside of her leg. He was purring now, his hand nearly-

"Julius!" A sharp retort from outside the cell. Instantly the Colonel broke the gaze, hissing at the voice behind the cell door. "Stop playing your games! The King wants to see Sveta."

"Silence, Vande!" Julius' fur was standing on end now. For a moment Sveta thought it was odd exactly how inhuman Julius was. She felt her head tilt, and saw a golden creature outside the door, benevolence seeping from its very presence.

"By the light, look at her!" The golden man fumbled with the lock before throwing the door open, running to Sveta. Julius backed away, still hissing. A cool hand was placed against her head. "She looks like death. How could you have been treating the queen like this!?" The golden man was angry now. Sveta felt herself carried in strong, soft arms. Safe. She almost felt like sleeping. "And her clothes? They're disgusting, and why are they ripped!? What did you do to her?"

"I have my needs, Vande," Julius was incredibly agitated now, but Sveta hardly noticed. "She is... delicious."

"You disgusting bastard." Were the last words Sveta could clearly make out. Somehow she recognized being rushed down a hall, someone shouting for help, but she couldn't think past that. All she could do was sleep.

o

Ascending those steps would never be easy, not when thousands of pirates were shouting, cheering, desperately and in disunion. Eoleo stepped up slowly, Ivan a pace or so behind and below him. Every step made Eoleo want to turn away, to run back down the stairs to the safety of his private quarters.

But no, as the King of Champa and the Angaran oceans, he kept his gaze forward. At the end of the long, ascending staircase, the tunnel opened up to the morning sky. Beautiful and blue, and he knew already it would have been a perfect day for sailing.

"The sky says volumes about your people today," Ivan breathed in deeply, exhaling contentedly. "That they are willing to stay in the city merely to hear their new king speak shows the depths of their worries. Many would prefer a nice day of sailing over a cruel hand forcing them back to reality."

"King Wo rises to the north." Eoleo stated, his voice confident and sure, but that was just to protect the uncertainty he felt within. "The people must be informed of the danger they face, of how close we are to war with the man. We control the best fishing seas on this side of the world; if the Sanan blockade gets any tighter, the people must be willing to fight for their own."

"Your people are pirates, not soldiers." Ivan pointed out. Eoleo nodded, knowing the significance of that. "When war comes, they will rally around the easiest solution to their problems, not what honor or duty binds them to. You must make them understand that Wo will destroy everything that they hold dear."

"Would he truly?" Eoleo's eyebrow shot up and he looked to Ivan.

"It does not matter." Ivan shrugged. "It only matters that your people think that they're better off siding with you, else they will not fight with you. A leader without the support of his people is nothing. The only difference between benevolent monarchy and brutal dictatorship is whether the people give their support through respect or fear."

Eoleo scoffed, not pleased by the answer. "Politics is akin to lying. This is distasteful." He stated, crossing his arms. "I hoped that requesting Matthew to join me here would make this simpler."

"If you are not able to lead, then you should have refused the crown when it was offered." Ivan stated, a wry smile on his face. "Or you can just surrender Champa to King Wo now and save yourself the hassle of getting your head caved in by his war hammer."

"I will not submit to tyranny." Eoleo growled, his voice getting low. "My people are free men. I would sooner die than allow them to be enslaved by a land-hungry warlord."

Ivan paused for a moment, pondering. Then, "You're a rare man, Eoleo. You think of your people above yourself. Most rulers in this day and age are incapable of that."

"Yeah," Eoleo grinned. "Just let King Wo try to take Champa from me. I'll send him back to Kaocho with his tail between his legs."

Ivan chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure that's what Unan thought too before he was completely outmaneuvered, shoved into a corner and then captured. Doubtless, Unan was still completely certain he could win even as he was being dragged to the execution block to get his head chopped off."

Eoleo's smile disappeared at that. He turned forward, uncertain of what to say now. Unan had indeed been killed by King Wo, not a week after he had been captured. From what information Ivan had given him about the attack, Unan was betrayed by a close general. All his plans were leaked to Wo, preventing any sort of true counterattack. The rumors even stated that now General Xiang, the traitor, stood at Wo's side in governing his newly conquered territory.

Shortly after Sana was conquered, King Wo sent ships to blockade the only exit from the Southern Angaran Sea. It was a wide barrier, spread thin enough that Eoleo's slim pirate ships could still sometimes navigate between the slower, clunkier battleships that Wo employed. If it grew tighter, however, it could cut off the town from valuable fishing grounds. Champa would have no choice but to go to war. However, Eoleo was grateful he had the aid of Ayuthay to the west. Amiti's government was highly supportive of Champa and negated much of the threat of any attack by land from Kaocho. It still baffled him how Kaocho had mustered enough manpower to fight Sana after the Grave Eclipse.

No, not Kaocho any longer, Eoleo reminded himself, South Sana.

The walk to daylight was growing shorter and shorter. Soon Eoleo would face his people, the thronging masses that they were. He gave one last nod to Ivan before emerging into the dawn. He stood at the top of his castle, which was built into a massive hill, a few hundred feet in the air. The platform was large enough to hold Eoleo, Ivan and his most trusted warriors and advisers Spread out before him, sprawled across houses, hills, any available space there was, were his people. The people of Champa.

"All hail King Eoleo," A mighty voice boomed from the side and Eoleo realized with a start that it was Ivan, speaking into his hands. His voice was amplified a hundred times over, likely a product of Jupiter psynergy, to project to the entirety of the crowd. "Leader of one of the last free bastions on this continent, of the people of Champa, who will never bend their knees to the unworthy!"

_Perhaps __they __do __not __know __yet __that __I __am __unworthy? _Eoleo thought grimly, nervous beyond all measure. _These __thousands __are __mine __to __command; __my __people, __my __blood. __I __rule __them, __but __they __are __more __powerful __than __I, __alone, __ever __will __be. __I __must __earn __their __favor __or __forever __be __burdened. __No __pressure, right?_

Ivan nodded to Eoleo, and the King nodded back. It was time to impress, or time to fail. Eoleo opened his mouth to speak, and all was hushed, like the world itself was awaiting him to speak.

_All __of __Champa, __at __least._"My people, hear me." Eoleo paused already, searching in his mind for the words he had prepared earlier. They had flown, but Eoleo knew better than to show that he did not know what to say. "I cannot lie to those who make me King: we are threatened. To the north lays the greatest threat Champa has ever known, with the power to make the horrors of the Grave Eclipse seem small indeed. Sana has been conquered by a violent warlord, one we had long thought too weak to be a threat to us," _And __woe __to __us __for __being __so __fooled._ "With the deposition and execution of the rightful emperor Unan, Sana is no longer our ally. We are soon at war! If we do not act against them soon, they have promised to burn our houses, enslave our children, rape our women."

Gasps rang out from the crowd, as well as murmurs. Whispers and chattering arose, worriedly and politely hushed, but loud enough. Eoleo raised a hand to silence them, and they quickly acquiesced. _I __wonder __how __long __that __will __work. __How __long __will __they __listen __to __me?_

"I humbly request your assistance, my people. We must defend ourselves, by whatever means necessary. The threat of Sana is too great to be ignored! We are at war!" Eoleo found his voice rising with the responses of the people. With his every word they shouted, or hushed, or gasped when needed, hanging onto him like a babe at the breast. _They __need __me. __For __now. _"But we will never bend knee!" Hesitant cheers at first, but it built. "The pirates of Champa are free people!" More shouting, stronger. "We do not fear brigands and barbarians and violent tyrants!" Now the entire mass was shouting with him. "There is only one answer to the threat that rises. We must fight!" Calls to arms rose in the crowd. Weapons clanged. Pirates shouted, their swords in the air. "We must toss this Emperor Wo," Eoleo spat the name in disgust. "Back into the hole whence he came!" The cheering could only grow louder. To the side he saw Ivan smile, a tiny, mischievous thing. Yet as soon as Eoleo took note, the smile was gone.

"But I need an army! I need a navy! I need my people of Champa! I need the brave warriors that drove back the First Assault!" The name given to Wo's first attack by sea, which had been repelled by a hasty coalition of sailors under Eoleo's command. "And I need the heroes of tomorrow! I need the good fishwives and the young and the strong and the wise! Together, we will never surrender!" Cheers. "We will never submit!" More, and more. "For _we __are __Champa!_"

Eoleo had his arms up by then, his great-axe held on high. So many of the pirates below emulated him. He saw the grizzled old sailors, the young and bright, the brave and strong. He saw the women, standing with the men with weapons of their own. All his people, calling for war and blood and glory. Each wanted to take Wo's head themselves, to see it ripped from his shoulders mercilessly.

Ivan clapped him on the shoulder, whispering a good job. Eoleo turned to see the man walk back into the tunnel, an odd look on the adept's face.

_They __will __love __me __when __I __win._

Eoleo kept himself smiling, but inside he was less cocksure.

_But the gods themselves protect me should I fail._

o

"Matthew, hold up!" He turned, looking back at the girl who had fallen behind without him noticing. Matthew berated himself for a moment about being so absent-minded before walking over, but the feeling was quickly lost. Soon he felt slightly annoyed at Karis's continued insistence to stop; her reasons for doing so weren't consistent and all she was successfully accomplishing was slowing them down.

"What?" Matthew snapped at her as he got closer, Karis's eyes widened at his reaction. "Don't act like this is coming as a surprise, Karis. This is the fourth time in the last two hours you've stopped us."

"Well, I found something remarkable here," She gestured down to a odd-looking flower, its red and yellow petals stretching out in a spiral shape around a bright gold center. "It's called Amrit, and it's incredibly rare. Some even say its nectar confers immortality."

Matthew said nothing. As annoyed as he was, he was intrigued. Around the campfire, he'd heard stories of the flower from Kraden, of its many stories and curses spread throughout the ages.

"There are other stories too, tales that its a harbinger of dark times to come." Karis continued, squatting down in front of the curious plant. "That when it appears, death is not too far behind. There was even one tale Kraden told of a woman who picked a flower, brought it home to show to her husband and children-"

"-and they turned insane and killed each other." Matthew squatted down next to her; they locked eyes and she nodded. "It was one of his creepier stories. Why not take a cutting of the flower, Karis?"

"What, and risk both of us dying?" Karis laughed, and Matthew suddenly found his annoyance had disappeared. He smiled with her, nodding his head.

After a while of laughing, her looked back at the pretty little thing. "Let's take it with us. Those legends can't be true, and my Venus psynergy could keep it alive until we can find a vase to put it in more permanently."

"So you're just gonna carry around a flower with us?" Karis said, incredulous.

"If it's rare, then it's worth it, right?" Matthew reached over with his right hand, ruffling Karis's hair.

"Hey!" She laughed again, swatting away his hand. "Stop it!" More smiling.

"I'll stop when you let me make my own decisions, damn it." Matthew joked, using his other hand when Karis successfully pulled his right away. As he reached, however, he felt himself slip off balance, tumbling forward, dragging Karis down with him.

She shrieked in surprise as she fell on top of him. Matthew, feeling stupid and clumsy, found himself oddly giddy as Karis rearranged herself, sitting on his stomach. She bent over, pressing her forehead against his, grinning widely.

After a little while, Karis sat back up again, still on top of him. "That was weird. It was like we were kids all over again, playing around and rough-housing like we used to." She had a mischievous expression on her face. "Though you haven't dragged me to the ground in years."

"You make it sounds so inappropriate." Matthew pushed her off, "Sorry about snapping before. I've just been so impatient lately to get to Sveta." Karis's jovial expression dropped suddenly, but was replaced in a moment. "Maybe we should take it easy. It's unlikely that arriving a day or two later will mean missing our chance to get through the Sanan blockade."

"It's okay." Karis stood to the side, extending her hand to help Matthew up, which he accepted. "We'll go at whatever pace you want. So what to do about the flower now?" She asked when they were both upright, "Gonna keep it?"  
"Why not?" Matthew opened both of his palms downward towards the ground, psynergy flowing around him lightly, rustling the leaves off the path. After a moment, a perfect circle appeared around the flower, uprooting it perfectly, a circle of dark soil connected to fragile root ends.

"Yeah," Karis grinned, "What's the worst that can happen?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**JamesK716: **Oh, definitely there will be more pairings, but I won't divulge who they are yet. But yeah, if anything this story may seem lighter at times than Risen was, though I'm hoping the darkest moments will surpass my previous story.

**Cstan: **You assume Heath is involved with the Tuaparang. :P But yeah, there's a lot going on here, and also a lot going on that hasn't been revealed yet. The Tuaparang aren't just in Sana and Morgal. The servants aren't, honestly, that important. Maybe I'll fit in their motivations somewhere, but I don't know if I ever will. After all, when you get drugged and thrown in prison, not all details about why become clear.

**EDIT: **Fixed a formatting error in Eoleo's chapter. All of the italics were squished together. D: It's fixed now.


	4. Misgivings

**Misgivings**

From the mostly open-air throne room, Amiti could see much of what transpired above-ground in Ayuthay. People ran about, some fearful, some pretending to be unaffected, still others completely oblivious. It was the last group he feared the most, people who shut themselves off from travesty and adversity, preferring to pretend it doesn't exist than to fight.

One of his advisers had been that way. Oh, a few more Ayuthian's turned up dead in the night? Probably just accidents, really. Can't possibly be the serial killer. Not long later he was found dead in his mistress's house, along with the mistress herself, their entrails pulled out and used to construct a bizarre pentagram.

Amiti cringed. These weren't just murders. Some of the bodies had been... mutilated. Eaten, bits and pieces of body chewed off. And each and every murder victim had the same tell-tale sign – the heart was missing, as if cut out, but Amiti feared they were eaten.

He knew his people slept every night wondering if they'd wake the next morning. People feared for their children, for their spouses, and families. Some had even taken to the roads, fleeing to other cities like Passaj and Harapa. Their lack of confidence in his rule had shaken him, but he supposed that they were not wrong. A mass murderer was on the loose, and Amiti could do nothing but wait and watch.

His guards seemed to find nothing when they investigated the instances. Just to ensure they were doing their job correctly, Amiti inspected a crime scene not a week past. Despite pleas from his advisers otherwise, Amiti saw the horror for himself. That time, it was an entire family that had been killed – the most for a single incident. A mother, father, grandfather and two children all lay dead, their hearts ripped out, their faces chewed, barely recognized as people. Amiti retreated to the castle quickly, throwing up his breakfast.

There was a pattern to the attacks. None ever occurred inside the royal palace, they only occurred at night, and only within closed buildings. The braver souls had left their doors open at night, which had spawned a plague of thieving, not to mention the already rampant looting brought about by people upping their families and leaving. Others simply moved into the streets – he was unaware if any of them had been attacked yet.

He was watching his entire city fall apart, disappearing into fear and depravity. The severe difference between attacks on upper-tier Ayuthians and those against the rest left the people suspicious of royal involvement in the attacks, which didn't help Amiti's case either. On one side he was blamed for inaction, the other for perpetrating.

Exhaustion. That was much of what he felt nowadays. He slumped further into his throne, picking at his nails absentmindedly. Then there was boredom, mixed with ever-present anxiety and brief pangs of terror. What a joy ruling was.

"Chylano," He gestured to the captain of his royal guard, a slender yet unnaturally strong man with jet black hair and bright, usually lively, eyes. Despite his youthful appearance, the man was phenomenally quiet, almost creepily so, but Amiti trusted the man – he'd been part of Paithos' personal guard for years. He'd always been there, though after the Grave Eclipse, Amiti wondered that maybe he'd gotten a bit skinnier. Understandable, considering what had happened.

"Yes, my liege?" The man instantly snapped to attention, with a practiced military precision that came with years of service and loyalty. As much as Amiti found him personally unappealing, Chylano was steadfast and loyal.

"Summon Irria, if you would. I need to speak with her." Chylano nodded immediately and set off in search of the woman. Irria was an adviser who had become close to Paithos in his dying days, though Amiti knew little of the woman herself. Apparently she was a powerful adept, strong enough to hold off many of the shadow creatures during the Grave Eclipse.

A few minutes later, the woman appeared. She looked about mid-twenties and was pretty, which some had stated was Paithos's true reason for keeping her around, but Amiti couldn't shake the feeling that her eyes betrayed an age and wisdom befitting a old woman, rather than the age she seemed. Long blonde hair flowed down to her waist, with fierce emerald eyes. She seemed unfazed by the rumors circulating about her and the late king, shrugging everything off with a calm and collected indifference. She was, quite simply, remarkable.

_She's older than I am, but very alluring. _Amiti thought to himself. _It's not often I forget myself around women. Irria is the first since K-_

"Did you have something to say, my liege?" Irria smirked, planting a hand on her hip. "Or were you just planning on blankly staring at me?"

"Oh, uh, right," Amiti collected himself, straightening his back on the throne. "I am interested in your previous offer of help. I would like to know what powers your psynergy could possibly employ in helping track down this serial killer. Though your skill as an adept is widely known, I have not seen it myself and do not know how to use you best."

"Use me best?" A coy smile. "My dear king, I am not one of your loyal subjects. I am here out of convenience's sake. If you seek my help, you have to be able to be able to provide me with some sort of payment."

"Then you're a mercenary?" Amiti felt his stomach turn. He knew her type, then. Heartless, coin-driven; suddenly her relationship with Paithos seemed a lot more suspect. However, he needed skilled help. "Name your price."

"I want free reign to enter any part of the under-city ruins as I see fit." She said quickly, as if anticipating Amiti's statement. "And free room and board in the palace."

"Afraid of the dark, Irria?" Amiti dared to say, reflecting the notion of the palace being the only safe place in Ayuthay. "Why do you want access to the under-city? There's nothing down their but collapsed tunnels and shadow creatures left over from the Grave Eclipse. It's sealed off for a reason."

"My reasons are my own," Again, too quick of a response. "But should you choose to hire me, I will jealousy guard your people and do all I can to protect against another attack. You could consider me yours, body and soul."

Amiti paused for a long while, then sighed, nodding his head. "Fine. You have your access and your food. My offer will be revoked should you become lazy in your hunt for the serial killer, however. Do not test me in this."

"You are very gracious," Irria stated, her face not even slightly surprised. _Like she saw it coming. _She bows, then exits, not waiting for Amiti to dismiss her.

"She does not give a king his respect." Amiti observed, slouching in his chair, his head on one hand. "Irria better prove herself to be useful if she's to be acting this way."  
"My liege," Chylano piped up, "May I speak?"  
"Of course."

"Irria has already been helping with the effort to find the killer." Chylano's expression seemed blank when he stated this, monotone and cold. "You have effectively given her something in exchange for nothing."

Suddenly he felt resigned, foolish. Amiti knew he was still only getting used to being king, but the moments he felt ineffective and weak seemed frequent. Left and right he felt taken advantage of, though he refused to let it show.

"Shall I bring her back?" Chylano asked helpfully.

"No, no, it's fine." Amiti shrugs. "Perhaps she will work harder knowing I am watching her carefully."

"Be careful about being taken advantage of, my king." Chylano stated. "People will be quick to turn against you if they perceive you as weak, and a king without his people is no king at all."

"I understand that." Amiti waved away the warning. "Paithos was sure to instruct me well in the ability to rule. If I follow his example, I should be fine. He was a strong, fair and wise king. I will honor his legacy."

"King Paithos ruled a fragile kingdom beset by war," Chylano's tone turned harsh, a rarity for him. "And his people united only because of the threat of Wo. With him moved into Sana, we do not risk land invasion. Our people are freed of their ties to Paithos, and he will not be remembered as a strong king, let alone a wise one."

"Watch your tongue," Amiti snapped at him, angered by his comments. "Paithos was a good man, and tou will utter no such foul words around me. Do you understand?"  
Chylano's eyes gazed back, unflinching, yet unsettling, "Of course, my liege."

o

"Where are we in respect to," Matthew cast a long look around, lingering slightly on the sunset, "Well, anything familiar." Karis felt oddly nervous. At some point they had become lost somewhere north or west of Konpa Cave, but they lost sight of any landmarks and were simply wandering now.

"I'm sorry, Matthew. I thought I knew this route better, I-" Karis started, but Matthew just smiled at her, stopping her.

"It's alright, Karis. It's my fault too for not catching that we were going in the wrong direction." Matthew said, and Karis smiled back. "I guess Tyrell was smart for staying at home. By now, I expect Garet to already be back, though I can't be certain."

"I feel bad about Tyrell; we didn't part on good terms." Karis looked in the direction she thought was home, but she had no way of knowing. "I shouldn't have been such an ass to him just because his opinions differed from mine."

"We were all acting up." Matthew laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Being in that house, alone, with nothing that we knew we could do, our parents missing, it's no surprise that our nerves became frayed."

"Still, I'd like to apologize to Tyrell when we see him again." Karis sighed as Matthew nodded. "Do you think Ivan really knows anything about the psynergy vortex?"

"Maybe not the one back home, specifically," Matthew's expression bunched up as he thought. "But I remember hearing that he was studying the fundaments of Weyard itself. He'd disappeared for a long time with Felix before you were born, according to my dad."

"Yeah," Karis thought back to when Isaac told them the story. He had seemed almost angered, even though it had been years before at that point. "Felix is still gone, and Ivan wouldn't reveal where he'd gone. There was a huge fight between your parents and mine."

"It's unfortunate. Perhaps if they hadn't had that argument, I'd know your father better." Matthew shrugged, "On the few times I'd seen him, he seemed phenomenally bright."

"Do you think he's in danger?" Karis asked, "I know dad's got this weird way of getting out of trouble, but now he's acting as an adviser for a war!"

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Matthew smiled reassuringly.

The last few days were fairly uneventful for Karis. She still had those random flickers of romantic thoughts when she looked at Matthew, occasionally, but being around him all day every day had a way of making her stop paying attention to this. She'd known Matthew for years and was incredibly comfortable around him; no doubt he was the same way with her.

What had bothered her for so long was whether his feelings towards her had ever been romantic. Karis sighed; it was entirely possible she'd just never know, unless she did something. Occasionally she'd notice him looking at her when he figured she wasn't pay attention, or squeezing her hand back when she held hands with him, but she could just chalk that up to wishful thinking.

It had also occurred to her that maybe she was spending too much time and energy on Matthew. Sure, traveling with him, alone, had been the real reason she followed him – as much as she wanted to see her father again, it wasn't her primary motivation. Even in a war, he could probably handle himself.

But what was she going to do when they finally get to Champa? Stay with Matthew until Belinsk and watch him and Sveta reunite? Or maybe she'd reject him again? Unexpectedly, she found that thought painful. Matthew would undoubtedly be completely broken up if Sveta turned him down again; the thought of Matthew in pain was nearly unbearable.

"Damn it. It sucks that we're lost. Almost makes me wish we'd opted to avoid Champa and instead crossed through Bilibin." Matthew sighed, looking around them, then pointed suddenly. "From what my psynergy tells me, we're not too far from a complex of caves. Maybe that's Konpa? It doesn't feel the same, though." He turned about, and Karis saw the Amrit flower shift. Matthew had bought a pack at Carver's Lumbermill and had taken to letting the flower sit inside of there, dirt and roots and all, the flower itself sticking out, an oddly majestic sight.

"We might as well try it out," Karis shrugged. "Let's go." She walked past Matthew, grabbing his hand and leading them in the direction he had pointed.

She'd taken up a habit of holding his hand whenever possible. Matthew didn't seem to mind – either he was painfully oblivious to her affections for him or he did, indeed, feel something for her – so she was doing it more and more often. Karis knew she was taking a risk with this, especially with Matthew's continued reluctance to give up talking about Sveta.

"Hey, Karis, nevermind the cave. It's getting late and we need to set up camp." Matthew motioned towards a small break in the trees to their left, shaded by a thick cover of leaves. "We're unlikely to find any better of a place before it gets dark."

"Right," Karis nods in agreement and they start letting their stuff down. She looked up at the sky, darkening with the dying light. Matthew carefully took the Amrit plant out of the bag, placing it on the ground in a hole he quickly dug with his psynergy.

"It seems like the Amrit flower changes colors depending on the time of day. I swore I thought it was blue on the full moon last night." Karis started to gather firewood. Without a fire adept, they'd have to start a fire the old fashioned way. As much as it was a pain in the ass, Karis knew it was necessary in order to keep the monsters away. She had no inclination to being torn apart by hostile creatures in the night.

"Sveta used to love a certain kind of flower." Matthew leaned back against a tree with an absurdly large trunk, a wistful expression on his face. "It was really light blue and they were pitifully small, but would grow in these little clusters. Can't remember the name of them for the life of me."

Karis lit some embers, using psynergy to blow life into the infant fire. She didn't respond to Matthew – she didn't really enjoy Matthew's insistence on bringing Sveta up. Matthew, of course, didn't seem to notice.

"I-I'm sorry, Karis." Matthew said suddenly. The unexpected statement made Karis drop the bundle of tinder she'd been cradling. _I guess he noticed after all_. "I shouldn't keep talking about Sveta around you."

"W-Why does it matter, Matthew?" Karis blurted out, her first reaction being to act oblivious. Turning back to the fire, she ensured that it was flaring up nicely, then walked to Matthew, sitting next to him at the trunk of the large tree. "You can talk about Sveta if you want to."

"But you wouldn't appreciate that." Matthew shifted his body so that he was looking right at her. Karis smiled at him.

"Why would I mind talking about Sveta?" Karis snuggled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. Comfortable, she closed her eyes, though inwardly she felt troubled.

"Because of your feelings for me." Karis's eyes shot open immediately, withdrawing from Matthew quickly. Her first response was to act shocked, surprised by the notion, but she quickly thought otherwise and wound up with a stupid gawking expression. She rectified it as fast as she could, composing herself. "I should've realized earlier that talking about Sveta bothered you. You fell silent every time I brought her up."

"When exactly..." Karis chose her words carefully, her heart beating quickly. "did you figure out that I had feelings for you?" Subconsciously she found herself glancing down at his lips, berating herself mentally when she caught it.

Matthew chuckled, a slight smirk on his face. "You aren't exactly subtle. Holding my hand whenever you get the chance, not wanting to talk about Sveta, all those little looks you keep giving me." Karis already figured out was his answer was. She knew she hadn't been careful hiding it – indeed, she'd been the exact opposite. "And it's only made worse by my natural sense of people. I'm a Venus adept; we're just good at reading people."

"I remember my dad mentioning that." Karis nodded, still flustered, "Venus adepts are the most in tune with humanity itself and thus can sense emotions. If only I was a Lemurian, that wouldn't work on me. I didn't realize you could tell romantic interest, though."

"It's not a clear ability," Matthew shrugged. "If you liked me but didn't make yourself open about it, I probably wouldn't have noticed."

Suddenly it made sense. Karis had been incredibly shy around Matthew for most of her life growing up. Well, either shy or incredibly bossy. When she wasn't avoiding him or ordering him around, she probably didn't show much honest emotion around him. The would explain him not catching on until now.

"I..." Karis bit her lip. "This must be embarrassing for you. I'm sorry." She started to get up, intending to sit elsewhere. She felt her face reddening with embarrassment.

"Wait!" Matthew reached over, grabbing her wrist. Karis spun as Matthew stood up next to her. "You don't have to be embarrassed about this. I don't mind."

"But you don't return it." Karis couldn't look him in the eye. Her head was whirling, thoughts running rampant throughout her skull. It was almost too fast to keep track of, but she felt one single desire despite the subterfuge.

"That doesn't mean-" Karis interrupted him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him. She felt Matthew recoil slightly in shock, not really moving much from the surprise, but eventually he relaxed, wrapping his arms around her. After a little while longer – a sweet, happy experience, though painfully short from Karis's perspective – Matthew panicked, pushing Karis away. Karis opened her eyes slowly, savoring the moment, but when she did, Matthew almost looked scared.

"What?" He seemed completely bewildered. "Was that your _tongue_?" Karis nodded, a coy smile gracing her lips. "I... I can't believe I returned that. A moment ago I thought that- that-" He shook his head. "Just give me a moment."

He turned away from her, his back facing her, his hands running through his hair. _His hair was extremely soft. _Karis thought to herself, with no small sense of satisfaction. She was slightly worried about Matthew seeming freaked out – he had been so into the kiss, though not at first.

"We have to talk about this." Matthew spun back towards her, leaning against the same tree as before. He pushed his hair up and out of his eyes, gazing at her with those pretty blue eyes of his. "When I brought all this up, I wasn't expecting you to..." Her shook his head. "To kiss me."

"You didn't seem to hate it." Karis was aware of the certain seductive tone of her voice. She walked to Matthew, pressing against his chest with hers, her hands grabbing at the front of his shirt with a certain feeling of urgency. "If anything, you were kissing as much as I was. You-" Pause. "liked it."

"That's what I'm nervous about!" Matthew brushed her off, scooting Karis to the side and walking past her. "I-I want Sveta! She's my-"

"You wanted me just a moment ago." Karis put a hand on her waist, annoyed, her mood suddenly lost. "You weren't fighting your feelings for me very much when you were shoving your tongue down my throat."

"I know!" Matthew said, loudly, before leaning against a tree, sliding slowly to the ground. "Light be damned, I wasn't thinking about Sveta at all when you-" He stopped himself, and Karis could see how bothered he was by the entire incident. "When I kissed you back."

"There's a reason I don't like you talking about Sveta," Karis bit her lip, unsure about letting her feelings bare. "I'm jealous; I always have been. Of what you and her have. I mean," She gripped the fabric of her shirt over her heart subconsciously. "I've known you longer, I've wanted you longer, so why her? Why choose her over me if you knew about how I felt, if you _returned _how I felt?" Karis fell against another tree, sliding down it much the same as Matthew had. Suddenly she felt upset, frustrated and, above all, stupid. She shouldn't have kissed him. "Sorry, Matthew."

"It's okay, Karis." Matthew shook his head. "Let me just collect my thoughts about this. I need some time to think."

Karis didn't reply.

They didn't speak the rest of the night.

o

_She's very ill, my liege._

Images swirled around her, dreamlike and transient. Sveta felt herself tossing and turning, somehow aware of being confined to a bed, but conscious of little else. She drifted in and out of semi-wakefulness, a painful time where she could not escape the burning sensation in her arms. But the dreams were worse.

Sleep was where the true pain lay.

She'd wander in the dark, wondering where the light had gone, only to fall through the floor and wind up nowhere. Alone. Intensely, utterly alone. She had nobody.

She'd fight off demons in black metal, werewolves and beings made of pure light, shouting all the while, a deep terror clinging to her. Someone was calling her name, but when she turned, all went dark.

She'd be gone, nowhere near, as she saw Matthew, his sweet smile and golden hair, his eyes the color of sky. Calling his name, but he didn't respond. Instead a flash of green, and there was another in his arms.

On and on these visions tormented her, only to wake into a physical pain that blocked out all else. Time passed; she did not know how much. All she could do was shout, scream, and be silent.

_Will she be okay?_

_ I don't know. At this rate..._

Eventually the mud and darkness became clearer, and once, she felt her eyes open. A man sat there, sunset light from some window cast over him, setting the dust in the air afire. He was beautiful, in some odd, long-forgotten way; elegant and surreal. His eyes burned like the sun, long white hair falling from a near-human face. When he saw her eyes open, he smiled sweetly, placing his hand on her cheek with a gentleness she felt she'd only known from one person.

"Father..." She barely whispered, before slipping back into unconsciousness.

It felt like a long time before she woke, but when she did, the pain was no longer gone. She felt lucid, and oddly healthy. Sveta sat up in bed, the sheets falling off her top half, looking about the room she was in – it was familiar. Her parents quarters, which had become Volechek's room. Somehow predictably, a beastwoman in white sat at a desk nearby, pouring over some papers. She was the personal nurse for the rulers of Belinsk, a woman Sveta knew well. She hadn't heard Sveta wake.

When surveying her surroundings, Sveta suddenly realized she was naked. A quick glance under the covers confirmed this. Just under her bare breasts were a few bandages wrapped around her torso, and when Sveta shifted her body to cover herself, she saw bandages covering her wrists and part of her forearm.

_Bandages on my chest for a broken rib, most likely one of the bottom ones. Bandages on my wrists from those long gashes. _She remembered the appearance of them, long and vertical, running the length of her forearm, maybe a centimeter or more deep in places. Somehow it felt surreal that she had been so dedicated to escaping prison that she'd been willing to nearly mutilate herself.

Prison. She remembered the cold, damp place, and all the pain associated with it. It was very unlike the lush royal quarters, where there were silks and fancy furniture everywhere. A familiar face was brought to mind, the smiling cat, Julius. She shivered, recalling the vague memories she had of her last moments in prison.

_I can't remember much. What exactly did he do to me? I wake up naked, with no idea how I got __here. He could have done anything he wanted to me, and I wouldn't even know. _She felt bile rise in her throat as she thought of Julius' hand running up her inner thigh. Leaning over the side of the bed, she vomited onto some expensive-looking carpet.

"You're awake!" The nurse instantly turned towards her. _Fran, that's her name. _"Oh dear," She stood quickly, rushing to Sveta and pushing her gently back onto the bed. "Relax. Do you know where you are?"

"Belinsk Castle. My parent's room." Sveta replied, wiping her mouth of the vomit dribbling down her chin with one arm and covering herself with the other. She knew this woman and trusted her, having effectively grown up alongside her – they were about the same age, and had been friends in childhood as Fran's mother was her parent's personal nurse – but after the events of the prison, she didn't exactly feel comfortable exposing herself, even if to a girl she used to bathe with, and who had likely been the one to undress her in the first place.

"That's good." Fran said, nodding hopefully. "What about your name? Do you remember your name?"

"Of course I do, it's Sveta." She gave an annoyed look at the nurse, "And yours is Fran. Francesca of House DeBouille, third generation. Your mother was my parent's doctor, and we were friends as children. My head is fine."

"Alright, alright. I get it." Fran nodded, standing, then walking to find something to clean the vomit with. As she walked away, Sveta couldn't help but notice the sway in her hips. She was an attractive girl, Sveta thought, with shoulder-length brown hair and deep brown eyes. "I was very worried when Vande and Heath brought you to me. You were very close to death."

"How so?" Sveta asked, "From the infection?" _Or... Julius? _Another wave of sickness.

"Numerous injuries." Fran shook her head sadly, finally finding a bucket of water with a rag next to some medical supplies nearby. "You had a concussion from some head trauma – not a severe one, thankfully, though it seemed like it had been present for a while. The wounds on your arms had been infected pretty badly, and I feared having to amputate. Luckily, that wasn't necessary." She stopped by the rug, wiping the throw-up without complaint. Sveta started getting out of bed to help her, but Fran ushered her back in. "No, no, stay in bed. You're too naked to walk around, and you need rest even now."

"Can I have some clothes, at least?" Sveta asked. Fran thought for a moment, then nodded, rushing to a nearby dresser. It had been one of Sveta's mother's. Volechek had never been able to discard his parents belongings, no matter how trivial. Fran handed her a simple, loose-fitting white cloth shirt that was large enough to hang over one shoulder and light brown cloth pants.

"No underwear?" Sveta asked. Fran laughed.

"Do you really want to wear your mother's underwear?" Sveta chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled on the pants first, careful to position herself so that Fran could only see the side of her body as she got dressed. _Why do I feel so self-conscious about my body around her? Because of Julius? _Sveta guessed it was unimportant regardless of its source. She had larger problems. Once they were on, Sveta stood up, moving about a bit. The clothes were larger than she was – her mother hadn't been quite the same size as Sveta – but they fit well enough. It was odd to wear normal clothing, however. She was so used to armor when traveling, and for the past few weeks, she'd been wearing dirty nightclothes over underwear in that dank, damp prison.

"How long was I out?" Sveta finally asked, waltzing over to a nearby dresser. There was a small portrait of her mother there, standing next to a man in armor, presumably her father, though the head was ripped off of the picture. "And why am I not in a prison? I thought I was overthrown by the Tuaparang."

"So that's what they're called..." She heard Fran mumble. "Two weeks, I think. The days have been a bit fuzzy for me lately. I've been taking care of you virtually day and night."

"Thank you for that," She smiled at Fran appreciatively, "Did anyone visit me?" She thought of the memory of the man she called father in her dream, with eyes like the sun. She couldn't recall the face. "Like a man with long white hair?"

"No," Fran shook her head, hurrying back over to Sveta, grabbing her shoulder. "You really should lie down. The wounds on your arms may still reopen, and I'd hate for you to bleed on your mother's clothing."

"It's fine, I-" Sveta started, only to be interrupted by the door slamming open. Men in black metal armor filed into the room, standing at ready. Tuaparang soldiers, though they didn't seem interested in fighting for once.

"How did he already know you were awake?" She heard Fran mutter, but Sveta was quickly distracted by the sound of heavy footsteps and clanking of metal.

A monster walked into the room behind the soldiers. Eight feet tall, with snow-white fur and vicious orange eyes. Long and dangerous-looking battle scars ran up and down the beast's bare chest, even running onto the wolf-man's face, giving him a hideously scarred appearance. The brute was ugly, to say the least, but with bulging muscles and a massive sword strapped to his back, the sheath slung over his shoulder. A pair of elegant royal purple pants covered his lower half, though they seemed too proper and out-of-place to be worn by this thing. Sveta was almost overwhelmed by his presence, even twenty feet away. Might and charisma seemed to ooze out of the beastman, with a certain unspeakable brutality that Sveta couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"You awaken, princess." The thing spoke, "I am Heath, King of Belinsk. You seem in fine health."

Behind Heath and to the right, a familiar golden-furred man stood in black armor, though without the helmet, separating the man from the rest of the unknowable troops in the group. Vande didn't so much as look at Sveta.

Behind her, Sveta felt Fran kneel. Sveta simply stared. "The queen still lives. Why do you style yourself as ruler?"  
"Do you think yourself in a position to rule, sweet one?" Heath growled the words, but his wicked maw remained smiling, as much as a wolf could, at least. "But no matter, you are healed, it would seem. You are ready."

"Ready for what?" Sveta narrowed her eyes and lowered her ears in suspicion.

"Why, didn't DeBouille tell you?" Heath laughed, a deep, sonorous thing that echoed through the walls and made them shake. "Your execution."

Sveta tried to respond, but found no words would come.

o

Karis shot awake, sweating and flustered, sighing in relief for wakefulness as she gazed up at the morning sky, her face still red from the dream she just had. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. To be honest, she had no idea he'd react the way he did the night before. Karis had pretty much been convinced he'd immediately shove her away, shocked by her impurity and the violation of his own feelings for Sveta. But no, he kissed her back.

_He kissed me back._

Of course, he pushed her away eventually, and hadn't talked to her since. In sleep, her mind had wandered towards the more primal side of her. Embarrassed, she tried to remove the images that had been burned into her, ones both alluring and incredibly embarrassing.

"You're awake," Karis turned. Matthew was standing a few feet away, looking down at her, his arms crossed, a troubled expression on his face. "That's good."

"Yeah." Karis responded awkwardly. "Good. So... uh... how's your morning?"

"Why did you kiss me?" Matthew said suddenly, catching Karis off guard. He had a tendency of getting straight to the point. She fumbled with her words for a moment before replying.

"Because I like you." She said finally, standing and looking him straight in the eye. "And I know you like me too. Otherwise you wouldn't have kissed me back."  
"I know," Matthew gritted his teeth. "Karis, I know. I've had feelings for you for a long time, but when I met Sveta, it was just different, and-" He stopped himself. "I need to sort all this out, okay?" He started walking away, leaving his stuff behind in the camp.

"Wait!" Karis called, running up to him. He turned and she pressed her hands against the sides of his face as she kissed him for the second time, though this time felt more natural and somehow more emotional than the last. When they broke, she gave him a friendly smile, or as much as she could manage in this conflicted state. "Take as much time as you need Matthew. Don't worry about it."

"Karis-" He started, but he couldn't finish his sentence.

The reason being that a ball of fire chose that moment to rip through the air, screaming overhead and crashing somewhere in the forest east of them. Matthew and Karis were nearly sent sprawling by the shock-waves radiating outwards from the impact site. When they regained their bearings, all it took was a nod and they were off running towards it, their weapons at the ready. Matthew's Sol Blade shone gold in the morning sun as they rushed through the trees.

What they found was a large crater, perhaps fifty feet across, a ball of black iron nestled in the center, still smoking. Cautiously, they edged their way down the sides of the crater; steep, but just shallow enough to manage if they were careful. Matthew slid the final few feet, banging on the sides of the black ball.

"Maybe you shouldn't do that." Karis cautiously stated, inspecting the ball from a few feet away. "You can't know what's in it. Could be hostile."

"Nonsense." Matthew placed a hand on the mysterious object, closing his eyes and letting psynergy flow out of him. "It doesn't feel hostile at all."

As if in answer to Matthew's question, the side opposite of Karis burst open suddenly, a large, squarish segment of the ball flying off, upwards and out of the crater. Matthew ran around to the opening, his jaw dropping in shock when he peered inside.

"What? What is it, Matthew?" Karis called, running to meet him.

"Mom!?" Matthew shouted, stepping back as Jenna stepped out of the ball proudly, soot blackening her face and a triumphant smile on her face.

"Hey kiddo!" Jenna ruffled his hair fondly, a jubilant expression on her face. "Where in the world am I now?" A quick look around. "I guess it doesn't matter since I landed safely. Or," She glanced down at her hands, "Not."

Her eyes rolled back up into her head and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**JamesK716: **I am thankful for your enthusiasm. :P The thought issues was a result of all the italics being pressed together by the uploader. I failed to catch that problem, so no, it wasn't intentional. I've alluded to some more of the pairings in this chapter, and Tyrell is mentioned as being back in the Goma Plateau, specifically Lookout Cabin. He had decided to stay there in an earlier chapter, and I realized that I guess I hadn't been clear enough about that, so I added a few lines about it in this chapter.

I wonder how you'll react to the KarisxMatthew bits in this chapter.

**jollygreendragon: **I already responded to the second half of your review in a pm, so I'll just focus on your review half here. :P I consider myself a scenery minimalist, if anything, since I've always found it kinda ridiculous how in-depth people will go into detail. Some author's do it very well (James Joyce wrote like three pages about a train in Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, I believe. Or maybe it was a flower. I read that a while ago), but many don't. I include myself in the latter list, so I keep things minimal. Don't expect any scenery porn. :P

Sveta's probably my favorite to write, actually, which is much different from Risen, where she was my least favorite. Not sure where that changed. She is, in my opinion, the most solid female character out of all of Dark Dawn. Also, if anything, Sveta's not taking the hit of separating from Matthew as hard as he is. To me, this is understandable, since she's been nearly raped and thrown in prison and all that good stuff, while he's just meandering through the countryside with Karis.

Haha. Ivan. Ha.


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